


sunrise, sunset

by pistolgrip



Series: the universe in your hands [2]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-03-20 10:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18990817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: The threats of the skies don't stop for love, but they only grow stronger when they have a place to call home.





	1. it's only a paper moon

**Author's Note:**

> hello again!  
> while being more self-indulgent fluff than the previous instalment, reading [second chances](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582688/chapters/44051962) makes a lot of the minor things make sense, so please read that first if you want!

Of the moments Six can say with certainty changed his life, an alarming amount of them included Siete.

He will concede that while there are few he trusts to be by his side, Siete is one of them. It's better to have a man like him as an ally than an adversary, so he graciously forgives Siete his shortcomings: his annoying antics, never-ending jokes, and perpetual optimism.

However, Siete has the unfortunate character trait of _charismatic_ that makes Six unable to hold anything against him. For him to call Siete's eccentricities _shortcomings_ is already a flimsy excuse. As often as Siete gets on his nerves, he's seen the possibility of a less benevolent man with the same breadth of power, what happens when the Revenant Weapons reign unchallenged. He knows Siete is kind at heart, and so his initial reluctance decays, its half-life shorter than he'd hoped.

Six doesn't want to entertain the possibility of being weak to his kindness, but he cannot deny that over time, he stops suspecting the excursions Siete plans for the two of them of having any ulterior motives. He doesn't know when Siete made the leap from inviting only him to certain missions to inviting only him to spend days off together. But no matter the reason, it doesn't negate how Six has stopped hating the idea of spending time with the man.

Siete's behaviour wasn't new. From the early years, he would pester Six about things he had either purged from his memory or had no care for in the first place—when his birthday was (he didn't know), whether he had any hobbies (he didn't care), what he wanted for dinner (to which he once answered _I'_ _d_ _rather_ _eat_ _alone_ _than with you_ and now answered _as long as it's somewhere quiet_ ).

Six had grown used to it, like a frog in tepid water. He's aware of how absurd it is to liken his slow acceptance of Siete's kindness with a metaphor reserved for gradual catastrophes, but welcoming his friendship has wrought calamity unto his mind, unfamiliar sentiments starting to infect the marrow of habit.

He finds that after four and a half years since joining the Eternals, he bristles less at the idea of company, even Siete's. Siete had been so insistent in his attempts to bring everyone together that they considered not getting together if only to spite the man. It came as no surprise that Siete was a common thread between them, and they grew more friendly if only to talk about their (admittedly superficial) gripes with the man.

Siete looked so self-satisfied with the revelation that his crew members were getting along that it burnt into Six's mind. It was at first a source of irritation, but with every recall of the memory he found that Siete's smile would soften, and he began to find the genuine happiness in the lines around his eyes.

When he aims that unapologetic happiness at Six, it leaves him at a loss, locking him in a cage of expectations. Siete never stops reaching towards the bounds of the sky, and it would follow that he wishes the same for his crew, the people he calls his friends. In Siete's determination, Six feels the expectation to be greater than what he is, than what he ever was—and most of all, something that he'll never be.

And yet, with Siete's damned, affable demeanour, Six allowed himself to give in to his kindness. He left himself half unmasked to the Eternals, grew to enjoy their company—and then it fell apart when the Seven-Star Sword possessed Siete.

The Leader of the Eternals left him dead on the ground. Six had been so despondent as to beg for mercy, only to not receive it. Siete stared at him from above with the cold eyes of a man lost to a storm, and mocked his plight with a kiss of his lips to the air. _Too busy to play with you right now, kitty cat. So sorry._

Hadn't Siete spent all this effort trying to tell him that he had a place in the world?

The old doubts nagged at him after the Eternals had defeated Siete, but instead of drowning in his hopelessness, he found a resistance within his heart. It rose from the memory of his time with the Fist, the beginning and end of which were marked by Siete's grin. It blazed through him the same way he'd thought for the first time _I want to be alive_. It sank with the creeping realization that Siete had been going above and beyond for him since recruitment.

What Siete did to him with the Sword felt contradictory. That was the only conclusion Six could come to as to why, after the trials, he had been so willing to trust in him again. His trust had already been broken once before—but when did he think of that skyfarer as breaking his trust?

Was it when that man heeded his blood father's pleas preserved in ink to take care of Six, only to abandon him? Was it when, while reading the journal that caused his world to crumble beneath him, Siete was the one that remained by his side?

Over a year had passed since he'd forgiven Siete for the altercation with the Seven-Star Sword, but still trying to organize his thoughts about Siete leaves his mind a jumbled mess. Six's only obligation in Siete's attempts to rebuild with the Eternals is to make good on his promise to forgive. And yet, he lets Siete initiate casual physical contact, leans in when Siete whispers in his ear, and finds himself prolonging their conversations.

Six is no longer wary when Siete plans an outing for the two of them. The trust has since been rebuilt between two willing parties. Instead, it's replaced with a restless energy, itching underneath the surface of his skin and begging for him to scratch and set it free.

If they continue to give it no name, he can contain the incessant thundering against his rib cage.

* * *

The situation Six finds himself in is a result of allowing Siete to wear his guard down, like water over a stone. He wants to say it isn't a habit he has, but he is no stranger to being burnt for having a heart more foolish than mind.

With uneasiness, he makes his way to today's meeting place, every step heralding an end of his familiar life with the Eternals. His ears twitch with a particularly strong gust of wind, and he puts his hood on, an extra layer against the elements and the insidious inner storm to come. "Why did you call for me?"

Siete looks at him, and if Six isn't mistaken, his grin lacks the playfulness that tells him they've got something social planned for the day. In its place is a self-conscious smile. "Actually." Siete drawls out the syllables, damnably gentle, devastatingly sweet, the last warning Six has to turn around and withdraw from that moment. "I was wondering if you'd want to go on a date."

The world halts in its tracks. Something knocks him off his feet—the cold wind, the statement. Siete's expression, expectant but understanding of rejection. With a revolting mix of dread and _anticipation_ , Six realizes that the red brushed across his cheeks isn't only from the weather.

A date.

The only explanation is that this is a prank. "No," he spits, operating on instinct before his brain has to tell him to reject Siete on principle. He nearly laughs. In fact, he _must_ have, because he hears what sounds like a part of his soul escaping, a wheezing chuckle leaking between his clenched teeth.

"Oh," Siete replies, too chipper. "Ah, okay."

The haste of his response makes Six's heart pump desperation through his veins until it tingles at his fingertips like pinpricks. "I'm—"

"Don't apologize," Siete says, raising his hands and laughing. But he must be aware that his smile is too wide, his eyes too bright, because the sound tapers off without lingering. "I don't think anyone's ever been so adamant about _not_ going on a date with me, but first time for everything! Hey, as long as I didn't make things awkward for you."

Siete's words are meant to placate, but they mingle with Six's racing mind in unholy matrimony. That a question like that would be directed to him was improbable to begin with; had anyone else asked him, it would have been easy to say no and turn away. But more than most, Siete has a stable history with him. It was absurd to destroy it, for either an ill-intentioned joke or for a serious pursuit.

Six couldn't decide which one was worse. What was there to gain from a risk like this?

He wonders when it is that he'd gotten to know Siete's moods well enough that he can read the strain in his smile, lips pulled tight. "Romance is not a possibility," Six clarifies with the first thought to come to mind, as a way to ease the unfamiliar sense of urgency creeping up on him to say anything _._

Siete waits for him to continue, so intently that Six is concerned he isn't breathing. He couldn't possibly have believed that there was any way for this to go well. The man couldn't be _that_ stupid, could he? All of his talk of the Eternals finally getting to know each other better and he fools himself into believing that Six could do _this_ sort of thing with anyone, least of all _Siete_.

He might as well make it the worse case scenario, quash any thoughts he could have of dating Siete—

Any thoughts that Siete could have of being romantically interested in him, he corrects himself, and he curses, over and over, for falling for Siete's particular brand of optimism. "I'm leaving," Six chokes out, turning away and pulling his hood tighter over his head.

"O... Okay," Siete stutters, and says nothing else.

It makes Six pause—was it so shocking that it left Siete, of all people, speechless? Despite every cell in his body telling him to keep walking and leave this event to the past, he turns back around. "I have one question."

It's an opportunity for closure, and while closure has the habit of compounding more despair on him, he can't help but seek it. Some time ago, he would have continued to walk away. But refusing to lay down and accept death is an unfortunate side effect of being with the Eternals. Their drive to continue forward makes him seek the inevitable bad endings rather than resigning to uncertainty. He gives in to the itch, letting the curiosity overcome him and make him dig his nails into the soft flesh of his shield.

"Shoot," Siete says.

"Is this a serious request?"

"Of course. I wouldn't joke about this _._ " The response is so immediate that Six is taken aback by the lack of hesitation.

"Can I knock you unconscious?"

Siete is so shocked by the question that his confusion only adds to the genuineness of the reaction. He stutters, "E... Excuse me?" and then, like an afterthought, he adds, "That was two questions."

"You... told me if you ever wanted to 'settle down' that I should knock you unconscious. Have I misread your intentions?"

Siete stares at him for a few seconds, before he hunches over and starts laughing. He looks _happy_ when he stands back up to look at Six, his relieved smile so radiant it blinds him with how unabashed it is. "I want to go on _one_ date to test things out, Six. There's no pressure to continue if you don't enjoy yourself—but you know, I _did_ spring this on you. Should I leave you alone for a few days?"

Siete's confirmation makes the faults in his self-defence shift. The fundamentals on which he'd built his preconceived notions of intimacy—an impossibility, an improbability, something only in his dreams—begin breaking apart and colliding, causing tremors through his thoughts. His hands are shaking, his breath is shortening, and he can't pinpoint _why._

"Yeah," he mumbles, working to reconcile the thoughts he's having now with who he was ten minutes ago. "That would be ideal."

A split-second of hurt twists in Siete's face that makes Six want to take back everything he's said and done. This is for the best, he repeats to himself. This is for the best. "I understand," Siete says, like _he's_ the one that has to apologize. "Thanks for answering so clearly, at least! Makes things a lot easier."

The laugh he lets out is forced, and it skips like a record in Six's mind as he leaves him behind.

* * *

He doesn't see Siete for the rest of that day, and the day that follows, and for a few more. But after that, he reappears in Six's life as if nothing ever happened.

Not that Six is counting the five days of peaceful silence Siete's left behind.

He wasn't lying when he said dating wasn't a possibility. The weight of his past is unbearable, and it would be unethical to assume another could help him bear the burden that he alone should atone for. Happiness cannot come until that resolution, and as it is impossible to atone for the innocent lives he'd taken, happiness is postponed.

The knowledge of his actions towards his clan still feels like a death sentence, but a more survivable one with the Eternals' company. Tenuous the braid of their friendship may be at times, when pulled taut during times of strife, they come together.

While friendships may have been inevitable, romantic relationships continue to be (self-imposed) off-limits. He doesn't know if he's allowed to love anyone again, too afraid to hurt and to be hurt.

Siete makes good on his promise to leave him alone, and Six comes to terms with the blank sense of loss hanging over him. When Siete returns, however, the loss is replaced with nothing he can name, but something he can do, and something he _does:_ running away when they're in the same room together and not looking back.

Siete notices. It would be foolish to assume he wouldn't. In response, he tries to be less present when Six is around, but in a small crew where they share a living space, it's hard to avoid each other. Six turns to spending most of his free time in his quarters, pacing back and forth about how nothing is feasible romantically—and then about how nothing is feasible romantically with _Siete_ , and _then_ about how he doesn't want this.

And then, in the darkest hours of the night, when he's tossing and turning in bed, he thinks about how none of those things are true.

Every memory of Siete lies flush against his barely-conscious mind as he drifts to sleep. His traitorous heart reminds him that he'd felt anything but his inevitable demise whenever they'd spent time together. Their meetings transformed from an annoyance to a way of breaking the monotony of jobs and day-to-day life among the base. Had Siete annoyed him so much that he'd fallen for the trap of staving away loneliness through allowing himself to be emotionally defenceless?

Using the word _fallen_ brings a whole set of images to mind, reminders of their private dinners with no snarky comments about Six being completely unmasked to eat without hassle. Images that didn't exist, of Siete's gloved hands reaching for his own and squeezing reassuringly after a long battle. Images his subconscious wishes would exist, where his current life is as he remembers, except Siete will interrupt his routine by turning to kiss him on the top of his head, his closed eyelids, his cheeks, his lips, and tell him _you_ _look happier lately_.

The images grow vivid and seep into his dreams where he can't escape. He is at their mercy, letting himself succumb to the ghost of memories and what-ifs. And when he wakes, he stares at the ceiling and knows that these dreams are no different than before, except he has a name and a face and a voice and a _feeling_ to them that he's stopped denying.

Five days after Siete eases back into his life, ten after he asks him out on a date, and Six finally decides he's had enough. He storms to his room and bangs on the door.

When Siete opens it, his eyes widen before he wrangles the reaction back to neutrality. "Six—"

"Let me in," he snarls, barging in and closing the door behind him, crossing his arms. Siete stares at him for a few seconds before sitting down on the edge of the bed. He takes a deep breath. If Siete has anything to say about the sudden intrusion, it can wait until Six is finished. "I have... reviewed my response. Regarding your inquiry."

Siete raises an eyebrow, and says, "About going on a date." A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth, a small, subconscious hope, and that observation is what breaks Six. It sends him over the edge, his irrationality overpowering what his mind has decided for his entire life should be common sense.

"...Yes." Six frowns, because calling it what it is gives it weight, a prayer given form _._ "The answer I gave then did not reflect the answer I want to give now."

Siete hums in contemplation. "So do you want to go on a date?" The question lacks the facetiousness that Six has come to expect from him. As far as he can tell, Siete's only looking for a confirmation.

"Yes," he confirms, and Siete's eyebrows raise. He must have been expecting more resistance, so Six rushes to add clarification. _"However._ Understand that this cannot happen again. It is already a mistake that I am rejecting what should be common sense by agreeing to this. Following the heart is a foolish endeavour, and I will make this clear."

"But you still want to, right?" Now there's a challenge in Siete's voice that makes Six want to retreat as much as it makes him want to stand his ground.

"Unfortunately." Six scowls and closes his eyes. He feels a headache coming, and with his teeth bared, he rants with no prompt except his own annoyance. "Your drivel of romance is a disease on the mind. Your short absence left me alone with the experiences we shared. And the present you in front of me, the image of you from my memories, and the ghost of you from my dreams have created such a repulsive combination that even _I_ am unable to reject your request. I accept, if only to prove this pursuit worthless. To myself and to you."

The room is dead silent, Six's own angry breathing ringing in his ears. When Siete doesn't answer, he opens his eyes.

His scowl falters at the sight of Siete, hand over his mouth, eyes alight with amusement. He would consider the reaction mocking if Siete's face wasn't a dashing shade of vermilion. "...You've got quite a way with words." He makes the attempt to tease, and it comes out embarrassed instead, muffled into his hand. "I can't tell whether you like me or not."

"...My hasty response was incorrect," Six huffs, crossing his arms. Siete's embarrassment is contagious. "I may have more for you than I care to admit."

"More what?" Siete bites his lip, but it doesn't hide his delight. "Not _more_ words, surely. You've got a lot of those today." Six sighs, rubbing the temple of his mask with his finger. More sympathetic this time, Siete says, "You don't have to if you don't want to, but I appreciate the update... I think," sitting up straighter.

"I _want_ to," Six sighs, his already low patience diminishing further at how many times he's had to repeat himself. "Haven't you been listening?"

"I have been, but forgive me for receiving mixed signals."

Enunciating every single word, Six says with frustration, "I. Accept. Your proposition. For a date."

He realizes too late he's fallen into Siete's trap when Siete can no longer hide the smile behind his hand. His amusement is humbled by the red flushing his face, and it irritates Six as much as it makes his heart beat faster. "How's next Friday for you, then?"

* * *

Lacking knowledge about proper date etiquette is a problem Six never expected to encounter. He's not unfamiliar with the concept of a date, but with his inexperience, he may as well have not heard of them to begin with.

Siete's only advice is to enjoy himself, which is the most useless thing he could have offered. And yet, the anxieties stem not from what Siete could do, but what Six will fail to deliver. He hates that it's so easy to imagine falling for him, as if part of him hadn't already.

On top of his other worries, Six doesn't know what to wear. Siete told him to dress warm and in nothing that would define him as an Eternal. Seeing as he didn't own much variety in his clothing, he puts on a simple dark grey turtleneck and black slacks, opting to cover most of his face with a large scarf and keeping his mask elsewhere on his person.

He doesn't look in the mirror as he leaves. He's never had a reason to.

The cold stings at his cheeks the second he steps outside, and his breath rises in the air as he tightens the scarf around his face. He stays frozen at the entrance, the bite of the wind shredding his thin resolve. The front door of the inn he's staying at is hardly more than a metre behind him, and nothing can stop him from walking back inside and reviewing further for tomorrow's mission.

The front door flies open, and a rush of warm air embraces him. He hears a young woman startle. "Sorry, I didn't see you! Um, are you coming in?"

He turns his head until he can see her out of the corner of his eye. He shakes his head, and begins to tread through the snow.

Mind blank from the cold, his feet carry him to the meeting place. Siete is standing by the large clock in the main square of the town, and concern is obvious on his features when he sees Six. He rushes over while taking off his coat to drape it around Six's shoulders; the warmth floods him, and he crosses his arms in protest.

Siete's concern is still clear through his attempt to tease. "Not even a coat?"

"This is yours," Six grumbles, ignoring the fussing and trying to take it off, but Siete stops him.

"Are you kidding? You look like you're gonna fall over any moment if you don't warm up."

Siete isn't wearing anything much thicker underneath the coat—a button-up underneath a comfortable sweater, a cozy knit hat around his head—but it's more than what Six has. He can feel the winter chill creep through his turtleneck and he hesitates as he puts his arms through the holes, buttoning up the coat. The less he resists, the faster this day will be over, although the more selfish part of him that craves a fleeting happiness rebels.

When he looks back up, Siete's smiling, a hand over his mouth. "What," Six mumbles into the scarf, self-conscious.

"Nothing," Siete says, clearly not meaning it, and he rushes to continue before Six can question it further. "It's not too far of a walk, but enough that I wanted you to dress warm. There's a place here I think you'd enjoy, so I wanted to ask you while you were in town for a mission."

Six keeps his hands in the coat's pockets, guilt nagging him for taking Siete's only source of warmth away. Siete seems unaffected by the ordeal and talks on without a care, but Six can't pay attention, thoughts overrun with worst-case scenarios that look like current events. Because of him, Siete is missing a source of warmth, and even when the snow begins to fall, he laughs like nothing's wrong, snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes.

He stops walking to stare at him, and Siete stops as well. "What's up?" His smile tells Six that he doesn't think anything amiss, and it twists him apart, his fraying seams at their limit.

"I can't do this." His throat tightens as he says it, and he starts unbuttoning the coat.

"Is it too warm?"

"Siete, I can't take this from you."

"Is that what you're worried about?"

"I should have been prepared." The response tumbles out of his mouth, fingers continuing to unbutton the coat. He invites the cold back as his own punishment. "If I've made this many missteps during a test run of things to come—" He falters. "I cannot fault you if you wish to discontinue this—"

Siete stops him from unbuttoning the coat, nudging his hands away. The laugh that follows is low but not mocking, another layer of warmth that suffocates Six. "It's my coat, let me decide what I want to do with it. Think of it as me being selfish," Siete offers as a challenge.

"How do you call this selfish when you allow yourself to walk in the cold?"

At his question, a look flashes across Siete's face that he can't parse.

The closer they became, the more evident it was that Siete was locking away the deepest parts of his past. The little he offered about his family life may have been confirmed by Uno and the twins, but everything he'd revealed about himself caused more questions than it answered. He was a man of many talents, each of which seemed more improbable than the last. But he proved his prowess with such ease that it left them all no choice but to accept that he'd been more thorough in exploring the skies than he'd led others to believe.

Siete was born of the skies and raised by the stars. It would make sense that he would be as boundless and mysterious as his keepers.

It's that same boundless energy, faith, possibility-seeking that draws Six to him. Where Six trapped himself with yesterday, Siete looks towards tomorrow while wanting nothing more but to do the same for all the others around him. Six hardly understands the man, but he's unable to resist following the mystery.

"How about this," Siete hums as he finishes buttoning up Six's coat again. "I'm doing this so you don't get hypothermia. If you pass out on me, it would be a problem. Which is true, but if you see it as for my convenience, it could be seen as selfishness." He laughs so easily that it blends with the spectre of him that visits Six in his dreams at night.

"That doesn't make sense," he protests as Siete steps back, admiring his handiwork.

"Aren't _you_ resisting because you'd rather _I_ be warm?"

The answer that springs so readily to his lips has managed to escape Siete this entire time. "It's because I don't deserve this kindness."

"Is it easier if I say I just like seeing how grumpy you look?" As he answers, he gestures towards a vague direction, an invitation to keep walking. He doesn't take Six's hand, or tell him in stricter terms to follow. It's Six's choice to stay or to leave, and he knows he should stop the farce that he has the privilege to something as trivial as a date, as monumental as love.

Six has the choice to turn around, go back to the inn, and end this himself. Instead—he doesn't take Siete's hand, but he walks up next to him, hands shoved in his pockets. "Calling yourself selfish makes me worry that something's about to go wrong," he says. Rarely is Siete a selfish man, but often does he pretend. "But it's within the job description to look after potential threats."

"So you'll come?"

"You have been warned."

Siete bursts into laughter and continues along. Snowflakes cling to his dark sweater, and his nose and cheeks are starting to take on a red tinge, but he looks _happy_ , even though Six has caused nothing but inconvenience before the date has even started.

He _wants_. He yearns to allow himself to be selfish, enjoy this day, and relieve the notions in his mind about the happiness he's denied himself. Would it be selfish to comply if only because it made Siete happy? Would it be allowed if it made himself happy as well?

The thoughts follow him to their destination, a building of brick and glass, snow sliding off the domed peaks. There are steps that lead to the heavy doors of the entrance, and Siete opens the door for him.

Six is hit with a blast of heat, and this time there's no protest from Siete when he takes off the scarf and coat. He shakes his head to free the snowflakes from his hair, and next to him, Siete scrapes his boots against the mat. He looks around, so distracted he lets Siete take his coat from his hands to drape over his own arm.

The ceiling of the indoor garden reaches at least another storey higher, plants of every shape and size winding around supports to breathe against the light. It's as if summer has bloomed in the dead of winter, a small respite in the bone-chill of the season.

The door opens behind them again, and Siete tugs at his elbow. "Don't wanna get in the way of people coming through." His voice floats over Six's head. He's busy absorbing the lush greens and purples and reds and every colour in between. Without warning, he begins walking forward on his own; Siete follows behind, seemingly content to let him walk through without interrupting.

The warmth of the greenhouse garden clings to his skin, and memories of humid summers spent in the Karm hamlet assaults him. He pauses to stare at lilac flowers, the same shade of purple that once surrounded every corner of his life. Spots of colour float in and out of his vision, and it transports him to the hamlet where he was born, where he lived, where a part of him died. The lilac was a reminder of his mortality when the Karm hamlet was much more alive, their latent magic glowing the same purple of the foliage, the clan's bright eyes alight with scorn towards him.

His breathing shallows. He clenches his fists, crosses his arms—

"Hey," Siete nudges, and when Six looks at him, he's pointing in the distance, past the flowers. "There's a penguin playing trumpet in the corner."

His ears flick in annoyance, thoughts derailed. "A what?" He looks between the purple flowers, and technically, Siete's right. There's topiary of a penguin with flowers for eyes, vines wrapping around metal wire shaped in the trumpet held to its beak.

"Oh, there are more of them. I wanna look. You gonna be okay here?"

Six scoffs, telling himself that his inner turmoil isn't so obvious. Siete is only asking because that's the kind of person he is. "You're within eyesight. If you are to humiliate yourself, do not involve me."

"Okay, okay," Siete laughs, holding the camera from around his neck and walking around to the other side of the bushes.

It becomes easier to watch Siete instead of continuing through the rest of the garden. When he doesn't think he's being watched, his perpetual smile becomes more private. Six's observation feels like it's bordering on intrusion, and with difficulty, he turns his attention away from Siete and towards the nameplates and dedications strewn across the garden.

He doesn't know how much time he spends walking around when Siete sidles up next to him again, leaning down to mutter into his ear. "There's a room full of cacti here that look like your type."

The statement is so odd that it makes Six huff out a laugh. It's not unnatural for Siete to say strange things, and he wonders whether he's playing right into his hands by allowing himself to be so easily disarmed. "Explain yourself."

"You're all prickly, but deep down you've got a juicy heart."

Six squints at him, trying to determine if it's an uncommon saying or Siete making things up. "What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've got a juicy heart," Siete shrugs, like it explains everything.

"I'll be the judge of those cacti," Six mumbles under his breath, as Siete leads them through the exhibits to a side room.

Siete knows when to stop talking as much as he knows when Six is about to spiral into his thoughts once again. Before Six even knows it for himself, Siete is already bothering him at the right times and grounding him with a small touch. The indoor garden fills him with a sense of peace—or maybe the turbulence of his world trying to rearrange itself has reached levels so uncontrollable that his only choice is to ignore it. He's reluctant to leave but reluctant to stay, held in stasis once again with the uncertainty Siete brings into his life.

As they step out of the garden greenhouse, Siete says, "There's one more place I've got for you, if you're up for it."

Six should shake his head. He should return the coat, return to the inn, and write this entire experience off as one that should never happen again. What they've done so far today is enough to hang over his head as a memory as torturous as it is comforting. But he's compelled to follow, and he thinks, deliriously: if he's going to crash and burn, he'll follow through to the end, so he can fall to ruin as completely as possible.

As if in a dream, Six keeps his eyes down towards the ground, watching his and Siete's footsteps leave paths in the snow. It's easy to lose himself their stark footprints are against the white.

Siete says his name, once, and his head darts up, looking at the sign of the place they've stopped in front of. Already, Six can smell the sweet aroma that he'd expect of a place calling itself a chocolatier, and through the window he sees families and couples at tables enjoying delicacies.

"Since it's cold, I thought it would be nice to warm up. You got a sweet tooth?"

"...I wouldn't know." Six's response is delayed, like he's forgotten that he's living in this world right now, with a non-imaginary Siete talking to him.

"Well, if it turns out that's not the case, they've got savoury foods here, too." The chime above the front door rings, and warm colours and sweet smells hound Six as they wait in the entrance. He buries his head in the scarf further, fingers twitching for his mask but refraining.

Siete puts up two fingers for the server to get them a table, and he notices how red his hands are, having been exposed to the cold for so long. When they sit down and the server walks away, he takes one of Siete's hands to inspect the damage. They're cold to the touch and yet Siete doesn't shiver, and he wonders if he can even feel Six's hands on his. He frowns. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Siete shrugs. "I have pockets. I didn't know you were so worried."

Six bites down the urge to say _should I not be?_ _,_ because he's surprised by the ease at which the retort rises to his lips. A part of his mind scolds him for continuing to deny the knowledge that he's cared for Siete all along—and that given the time they've spent together, Siete asking him out on a date might not have been completely unfounded.

Six is aware of how transparent he is and goes to great lengths to hide himself. If he hardly understands what he feels in any given situation, then others shouldn't be allowed to make their own judgments. He knows how freely he gives himself away through tone of voice, facial expressions, and body language.

But no matter how much of himself he tries to hide—even now, when he keeps his scarf on indoors to cover half of his face, and is covered from head to toe—Siete dissects him without even trying.

"You look like a dark chocolate kinda guy," Siete says, pulling his hands from Six's grip and picking up the menu. He drives away the haze and keeps him in the present, so effortlessly that it should be cause of concern to Six. (As if something that hadn't raised red flags in the last four and a half years should do so now, his brain chides.) "Not too sweet, but still got a kick. Just like you."

"What does that mean," Six grumbles, disoriented from being forced back into social interaction. "I primarily use my hands to fight."

Siete looks at him for a second, as if trying to piece him together, and then he laughs. Six feels warmth rise in his chest while dread sinks in his mind. The ever-present voice that he doesn't deserve happiness is starting to grate on his nerves, making him wonder whether he's starting to forget his place in the world by telling it to be quiet for _one_ moment. "Dark chocolate it is, then. With a fruit platter."

"Why fondue?" Six asks, because his mind can't stop racing, and he needs to hear his own voice to feel like anything about this day is real.

"I'm _convinced_ you've got a sweet tooth you haven't discovered." Siete winks. "Also, chocolate is nice on a cold day. Or any day, really."

"Consuming chocolate without the intention of testing them for poison will be a novelty," he mutters, more to himself than in response.

Without even missing a beat at his comment, Siete says, "Now you get to consume them for fun. Do you want me to feed you? We can practice now if you're shy. Say _aah_." Six must fail in not making a face, because Siete laughs—and it's not his regular boisterous laugh, but more controlled, like a secret between the two of them hidden half behind their menus.

"Absolutely not. I can feed myself."

* * *

Siete sweeping him off his feet goes like this: with a response he'll never expect, worded in a way that makes him want to respond, even though that's letting Siete win. Rather than giving Six permission to forget his past, he helps Six to remember the present.

The chocolate isn't too sweet, and while he focuses on the taste, Siete tells stories. The mundanity is a comfort he's wont to avoid; it's dangerous to live when they don't have swords in their hands, claws at people's throats, and the weight of responsibility billowing white over their shoulders. But he thinks, with a sinking feeling, that he could get used to a contentment like this. That should Siete continue providing hedonism this potent for him, he might one day succumb and forget.

Over his years, he'd been privilege to witnessing the different kinds of love. The romantic storybook version that Song had dreamed of, the one she is no longer shy about showing with Silva. The familial, unconditional versions of the twins' protection over the children of Stardust Town, the transformation Funf inadvertently caused on Okto with her birth. The unconditional, unquestioning faith he learnt to feel for his blood father's efforts, the one he felt for that man.

His memory of that man is from so long ago, now, only existing in the haze of his mind, and it's become difficult for him to shape the feelings he once felt. Over time, the Eternals had emerged as shapes against the fog of that man's memory, driving it away, with Siete at the forefront. He misses him less and less, the remnants of what might have been love or expectation or dependency collapsing under the never-ending onslaught of the present.

Siete is too good at having people lower their guard around him. The swirl in Six's gut and the clamminess of his hands and the clumsiness of his words are signs, but whether it's of things going wrong or things going right, Six can't tell. Love is unfamiliar in all forms.

He thinks he might let himself fall, if only to learn the lesson the hard way for the third time.

The snow hasn't stopped when they exit the chocolatier, and Six feels so sated it loops back to discomfort. Siete insists on walking him back to wherever he's staying, but the base is closer to their current location than the inn. The tendrils of frustration at Siete's actions nag at him again. "You've done enough."

"I'm not having you walk back cold, keep my coat."

Something within Six finally breaks apart. There's no reason Siete shouldn't be so patient with him, let alone have feelings like this. "This isn't _right,_ Siete. What I felt today, whether it be happiness or a caricature, was only fleeting. I will forever be haunted by my own ghosts, as I rightfully should be. What about this do you not understand?" He hisses the words out with as much intent to end this foolish dream as soon as possible, slicing through the same cold air that brings him back to reality.

The street lamp illuminates Siete's shock. A darker part of Six is satisfied seeing him _finally_ so off-kilter, while everything else pleads that Siete shouldn't be shattered so easily. "So," Siete starts, and his small smile is trickling its way back home on his lips. It's tinged with sadness, but not pity, and Six balks at the thought that he's been watching Siete for long enough that he can tell the difference.

The difference isn't difficult. Not once has Siete exacted pity on anyone.

"You enjoyed today?"

Six stares at him in complete disbelief, his thoughts halting. Siete sweeping him off his feet goes like this: Six clenches his fists, and then he spits out his answer with as much vitriol as he can muster against himself for falling, over and over and over— _"Yes."_

Siete is missing the point so spectacularly that it's hard not to be angry at him.

"Then if as you enjoyed it, the time hasn't been wasted. That's all I wanted for us today. To enjoy even a second of it. Time enjoyed is as infallible as the despair you've experienced." With that damned smile, Siete reaches out with his steady, cold-exposed hands to brush the snowflakes off the top of Six's head. He can't find it in himself to resist the physical contact that feels too intimate. "For what it's worth, I had a great time, too. Is this a bad time to ask if you'd like to do this again one day?"

"Yes," Six resigns. "It is a bad time." He wants the answer to infuriate Siete, but it only makes his expression grow fond and soften around the edges, like he'd expected it from him.

Resisting has made him tired. All those years of kindness from the Eternals, from _Siete_ must have made him weak. Instead of fighting again, he sighs, looking down at the snow bunching around his boots, the cold leaking in and chilling his entire body. The voices in his mind overlap until they become white noise. Six can't hear himself when he says, "You need to improve your sense of timing," turning around to trudge back to where he's staying for the night.

A part of him expects (waits for) Siete to come up beside him, hands in his pockets. If the wind were less harsh, he might even be whistling nonchalantly. Sighing, Six says more than asks, "You're following."

"Yeah."

Above the way his hands shake not from cold, above his irregular heartbeat, above every fibre of his being telling him this is a bad idea—the silence between them is a comfort. It's the only thing that soothes his mind while sending it into overdrive.

Six stops at the inn. He looks up at Siete as he returns the coat. He knows he's supposed to say something here, but there's too much that his mind urges him to say, and not a single one of those things sounds right. In the end, he nods, and walks through the front door.

"Have a good night," Siete says, and if there's anything else, Six can't hear.

The stairs creak under his indoor slippers as he lumbers upstairs. With the lights in his room off, he looks out the window. Siete is walking away in the direction they came in, buttoning up his coat as he leaves with a look of contentment, and Six finally remembers he's forgotten to say _thank you._

* * *

The date doesn't distract Six from his mission the following day. He's too well-trained to forget what he was born to do. But when the day is over and he has time to himself, he thinks.

For a while, his mind is empty, with nothing but a looming sense of despair around every edge of his actions. He executes his pre-bedtime routine; he washes his face, brushes his teeth, dresses down enough to be comfortable but not enough to render him unprepared for attacks. He prepares to sleep with his back against a wall, facing the window and the door.

However, that night—and for a long time afterwards—Six can't redirect his thoughts from the date. The anxiety that normally clouds his memories has met its match in the warmth of Siete's coat as he wraps his blankets around him, the gentle whisper of Siete into his ear to tell him he's moving elsewhere in the garden, or to point out something of interest.

He remembers how desperately he wanted to believe Siete that time enjoyed isn't time wasted. That although Six has learnt the virtue of friendship, it could extend to more. _When you find friends that love you,_ the man's voice echoes in his mind, although these days it's grown more and more of a distant memory, a reminder he reads in his own voice— _never let them go._

The reminder doesn't tell him what to do when someone loves him as more than a friend. When he might feel the same.

His younger self may have turned and ran from uncharted territory. But being around Siete has given him the curious thought that it's time for him to take the leap of faith and trust in love, one last time.

* * *

A week after the date and his mission, their ship picks him up on a route back to home base. He doesn't have any jobs for a while, but that doesn't ring true for the rest of the Eternals aboard.

"The holiday season is busy." Nio sighs as she packs her things, preparing for the island towards which Siete steers the ship.

"Take care," he says when they dock. She looks at him, tilting her head and then nods, as if she found the answer she was looking for within his melody. Siete's footsteps come up from behind him to send her off, and she glances back to Six.

He hasn't forgotten her warning about the turmoil in his heart. She must have known what she was doing, because the frank observation made him second guess everything he'd felt about Siete since then. She refused to comment past that, even more so when the Seven-Star Sword's actions nearly tore them apart. But the Eternals never made learning lessons easy, so he'd waved away the questions and turned to introspection while rebuilding with Siete.

The spike of anxiety he feels thinking about it again must resonate with Nio, because she takes a moment to nod when Siete wishes her well before she steps off the ship. Siete doesn't notice her pause, tired with the travel, and he yawns. "We'll be staying here until night. We have to pick up Uno in the morning, and Nio shouldn't take longer than a few hours, so we'll depart when she comes back."

Standing next to Siete once again invites the crawling feeling underneath his skin, but it feels less like anxiety and more like anticipation. Whatever he and Siete have hanging in the air between them, Six only has to reach out and meet him halfway.

When he doesn't receive an answer, Siete turns away, the floorboards of the ship creaking as he ambles towards the ship's quarters. "Wait," Six scrambles to say. Like so many things about Siete since recruitment to now, he doesn't understand why he feels as though he might be losing a chance when he's set up his entire life to believe that he never deserved one at all.

Siete stops to look at him, tilting his head. The frown furrows Six's eyebrows and downturns his mouth, slack open in a desperate attempt to say _anything._ "If we have a few hours..." His lips feel heavy, each word lumbering in his mouth. He clenches his fists and looks away. "Forget it."

"No, I wanna hear it." Siete smiles, and again (and again and again, like so many times before) it undoes the thin resolve that he might have always had for the man.

He sighs, closing his eyes. "If you'd like, before Nio returns... We can spend time together." Saying each word is like torture, every syllable dragged out of his mouth by hope's claws. With the lack of an answer, he cracks open one of his eyes, fearing the worst.

Siete is there, staring at him, with a smile Six doesn't think he's ever seen before. It's got an innocent glee that makes him look like an absolute moron, but so unabashed that Six might start to feel the same contagious hope.

It makes him relax, even though his cheeks reddens and his heart is beating so fast it might burst out of his chest and finally leave him for dead. The feeling skitters across the surface of his skin, finally released, bleeding itch on his sleeve for Siete to see.

"I'd like that," Siete says. He says it under his breath, like he doesn't quite believe that he's asked. He looks so happy that Six thinks he's made the right decision, his own common sense be damned. "I'd like that very much."

 

 

 

 ・

 

 

 

Siete, despite all appearances, has his own weaknesses.

He'd kept people at a safe distance from him all his life. It's a responsibility that people with power should have. The sentiment shouldn't be mistaken with believing that all people in power should be unkind—it's the opposite, in that they must have kindness that extends their own limits and reaches others. But they cannot become so weak-willed that they leave themselves open to attack.

The power that Six wields subverts everything he's learnt. He is one of the most powerful fighters in the skydom, but Six cannot disguise his heart. He's only gotten stronger over the years as he came to terms with the nature of his power and allowed himself to open up to others.

Siete can't keep away from the heart he so readily bares. He doesn't realize that in trying to figure out Six, his own evasiveness rises, picking at Six's fragile patience.

His invitation to dinner is not an uncommon one, but it's the first time Siete's asked him out since their date. He knows by the way Six bristles at the dinner suggestion that it puts a layer of formality onto their not-quite-dating. He tries to compensate for Six's apprehension by inviting him to a familiar restaurant, but the atmosphere is too relaxed. Siete feels as comfortable as he always does, joking about anything to try and poke amusement out of Six, when he reacts to the pestering by putting his cutlery down.

Almost clattering the plates with the force of the motion, he averts his gaze. His scowl says anger, but his eyes are shrouded with disappointment. "Siete," he grits out, full of raw pain. "If this is your attempt to convince me that romantically pursuing you is an idea I won't regret, you're failing."

Siete's blood runs cold in a way he hasn't felt before. In battle, cold blood can be an asset. The ability to delay horrors until a time where he's more suited to process them helps clear his mind and do what needs to be done. Here, in private matters, the icy shock of Six's statement paralyzes him.

"I thought you might treat this differently than your other personal 'hangouts'," he continues when Siete doesn't respond, poison and betrayal dripping from his lips. "But it's obvious I expected too much of you. I'll be taking my leave."

"Six," he says, trying to hide his panic out of habit—but isn't the habit of hiding his emotions what got him in trouble in the first place? Unimpressed, Six stands up, drawing his jacket around him and walking out. "Six, wait—"

The bell at the front door of the restaurant rings light and airy to signal Six's escape, echoing hollow in Siete's ears. Biting his lip, he throws too many rupies on the table and runs out to the street.

Six has faded into the crowd. He's not likely to head back towards the base, not immediately. At the beginning of his time with the Eternals, he was prone to returning to the Karm hamlet for isolation. These days, he doesn't go quite so far into the corners of the skies, but he still spends time outside alone to sit with his racing thoughts.

After scouring town for all his old haunts, Siete rushes through the forest, to run-down houses on the edge of the forgotten dirt road between larger cities and where Terra waits. Among the dilapidated structures abandoned from human assistance and fed back to the earth, he finds Six traipsing like a lost soul.

Six has always taken to ruins, worn them like a gauntlet on his hand.

"I need to make myself harder to find," Six muses as Siete walks towards him, overgrown weeds bending under his footfall. "Like you."

The tone is accusing, and when Six turns his head over his shoulder, Siete's surprised to find him wearing his full mask. It's a rarity around the base, no longer a vice for him while in the clutches of social anxiety. But he knows what's happening now isn't related to that as Six turns to face him and takes the mask off, throwing it at him.

He scrambles to catch it. "Six..." He falters. He spent all this time chasing to catch up with him, only to be at a loss for words.

"Was I not even worth the decency of meeting face to face?" Six snarls, his eyes widening with the accusation. They hold a clarity forged through fire and come out diamond to refract the moonlight. Siete is doomed—but he has been since they'd first met and Six turned onto him the same challenging, daring eyes.

"Really ballsed this one," Siete jokes.

Disappointment sinks into Six's expression, and he closes his eyes. "It was unreasonable to expect more from you."

"No, wait—ah, shit," he stumbles, jogging to close the distance between them. Six stands still, a bastion of shadow towering under the paper moon. "Okay, I didn't approach this the best way."

Siete knows he's facetious. He knows it gets him into constant trouble. Everyone's assumptions that he's only capable of joking and lying merely worked to his advantage until now. He keeps everyone a safe distance away, but Six's open heart makes it easy to fall for his intensity. "You're right. It was unfair for me not to make myself as equally vulnerable as you made yourself."

"So you're a liar _and_ a coward."

The frankness of the statement startles a laugh out of him. "Not sure if I would go that far. But I... wanted it to go right. I wanted _us_ to go right." For Siete, understanding people is second nature. It's a weapon in equal parts medicine, and he's had little reason to use it as the former. But it's caused him to control other's impressions of him until he'd obfuscated his past, his present, and his future as a safety measure.

Perhaps it's why he'd never seriously considered a relationship until now. With anyone else, he wouldn't have taken the risk to begin with. But Six makes him want to prove himself wrong. Six makes him want to be drop his defences and be left without weakness, as much as he wants to see their strengths when they're together.

Some take Siete's bullshit at face value, some write it off completely, and some argue back. But no one can break it down like Six does, unflinching in how little he cares for maintaining the veneer of Siete's overbearing personality. It's steadfast and piercing and devastating, and instead of making Siete want to run as far as he can in the opposite direction, he wants nothing but to stay by Six's side.

"It's easier to be larger than life. I don't want just anyone to understand me, but you aren't just _anyone_ , Six. The idea of asking you on dates makes me nervous enough to try and hide, even when you're out here being more brave than I am about this whole business!" He laughs, his way of sharing his private worries.

And then Six retorts, so certain that Siete's heart aches: "Why would _you_ be nervous?"

"Six," he says, voice weak, his name the most stable thing that he can form with his lips right now, the only thing he trusts—"You can't begin to imagine how strongly I feel for you."

"Show me." Six tilts his chin up, jaw set, looking down at him. "I cannot be expected to believe that you feel any different about me than you do anyone else when you continue to act the same way you always have. Don't tell me what I can and cannot do."

Siete opens his mouth to respond again, but he stops himself. Six is right. For him, actions are more meaningful than words, despite having the latter in abundance. Siete's self-conscious concerns have made him overlook every last sign.

He unsheathes the sword hanging on his belt from its scabbard. Six glares on, but he traces every motion, prepared for self-defence.

"May the stars and the moon be my witness, and may the sun bring forth bloom," he starts, getting down on one knee and planting the tip of the sword into the surface of the earth.

Old childhood memories he's come to suppress, but the scars of tradition don't fade. The words once recited as ritual he now recites as a prayer, an honest recitation through a cracked facade.

It's a knight's oath, and a knight he never was. But he'd armed and fought alongside enough of them to have been one of their own, and had he stayed, it would have become his path.

Hell, isn't that where he is already?

"I, Siete—" and here, he stumbles over replacing his real name, having to remove the name of the old kingdom he sought to protect—"Star Sword Sovereign, declare that I was an asshole that wasn't being entirely truthful with you."

Six looks unimpressed, raising an eyebrow. "Does this have a point?" But the line of his shoulder is more relaxed, and Siete lets his relief show when he notices that Six is willing to listen to him, even if it's the last time he will about this situation.

How many times has Six given people second chances? How many times have others broken that trust?

"And with the most gracious of do-overs for my fuck up you have granted unto me, I promise to stop obscuring myself, as you have done so towards me." He takes Six's gloved hand with his own, pristine white against his own jet black, and there's little resistance as he draws it towards him and brushes his lips over his knuckles.

He stays there for a heartbeat, and then he sighs. "Sorry," he mumbles against the fabric. "I know this is too dramatic for your tastes. But my heart's thundering real loud, you know. This sort of thing helps me." He lets Six's hand fall back against his side, and then looks up at him.

"What sort of thing helps you? Being an idiot?" Six pinches the bridge of his nose, and the motion fails to hide the blush across his cheek.

"Would you still like me if I wasn't?"

"First you conceal yourself, and then you lie, and now you're jumping to conclusions. It's a wonder you've survived so long."

Laughing once, Siete stands up and sheathes his sword again. He holds up the mask with the intentions to fit it back on Six's face, but Six brushes his hand away. His hand comes to rest around Siete's wrist, a graze of gloved hand against skin, a minor miracle—but Six _must_ feel his heart go into overdrive.

He thinks he's forgotten to breathe.

"Don't disappoint me," Six murmurs.

"I'm Siete, Leader of the Eternals," he says, moving his hand so he can hold Six's. There are no objections to the action, and after a moment, Six's fingers curl back around his hand. "Aren't you guys always disappointed in me?"

"I'm not asking the leader of the Eternals. I'm asking _you."_

Six's mouth twitches upwards in amusement, like permission. That smile could move mountains, and the very hint of it sends tremors through the earth, leaving him weak-kneed.

"You can count on me," Siete says, squeezing his hand for emphasis. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit [march 9, 2020]: thank you @ChiguQestir for **[this super sweet fanart](https://twitter.com/ChiguQestir/status/1236820680764784640)** of their date in this chapter... ogjkhgnmgdnkfgf ;___; PLEASE LOOK


	2. sailing over a cardboard sea

Dating is nothing like Six imagined. There are no decadent proclamations of affection, no extravagant presents sitting on his bedside for when he wakes, no parades of wealth in the name of a love too fleeting.

Siete's upheaval of his routine becomes a routine in itself, and it surprises him how pleasant the change is. Against Six's initial expectations about dating, he learns that their schedules don't have to be in tandem. That revelation works to his advantage when merely existing in the same space is enough to make his heart speed up.

To relieve the pressure of his ribs ensnaring his heart, he tries to see it as an intimate friendship while he processes the romantic feelings. He unfolds parts of himself for Siete to see, and Siete does the same; in the space they make for each other, he feels something dangerously close to the safety of home, where he finally lets his heart emerge.

 

 

 

・

 

 

 

Siete considers it a miracle that he managed to get the first date, let alone the months they spend together afterwards. He knew that when he implied that he had feelings for Six, it would ruin their friendship at best, and it would break apart the Eternals at worst if neither of them could recover from his selfish whim. But he'd been interested in Six for a long time. It was a curiosity that turned from business-only to an attraction that blindsided him from the moment he met with the burning spirit at the Karm hamlet.

Six is slow to warm up to new affections, but he reaches intensities that leave Siete breathless. He is always giving in the conversations they have when only moonlight is their witness, with the language between the rustle of their sheets as they sleep at night. The explorations continue onward from the day Siete nearly ruined it all, and while their pace is slow, Siete is more than happy to continue as they have. He can't postpone their activities with the Eternals for the relationship lest they be discovered or, more importantly, the skydom fall prey to preventable dangers. They have duties to uphold, and Six is uncomfortable with putting too strong of a label on what they are for now.

But Six's willingness never fails to surprise him. On a night where they can steal away time to have a private dinner at the base, Six is drying the dishes while Siete washes, catching each other up on their lives while apart.

The quiet intimacy makes Siete feels adventurous. He's no stranger to liminal spaces, having had his own share of traversing through the in-betweens of the earth and the skies. Now feels like one of those times, when the silence between them is comfortable and yet thrumming with an anticipation that makes Siete's hands fumble.

When he finishes, he leans back against the counter, watches him dry the rest of the plates and put them away. "Six," he says, and it comes out hushed. It's a secret, a small space for the two of them. He smiles when he asks, "Can I kiss you?"

Six's eyes are wide when he turns around, and Siete thinks about how he loves that colour rises to his face, no longer hiding his heart behind his mask. "No," he blurts out, shaking his head.

"Are you sure?" he asks again, amused. It's not a problem if Six doesn't want to, but Siete hasn't forgotten his first reaction to asking him out on a date. There's merit in allowing him to take a moment to think about it—which he does, without more prompting. Six's ears tilt from side to side as he runs what Siete can only imagine are simulations of the kiss; the entire spectrum of emotions blaze in his eyes, each leaving a flash burn in Siete's memory.

It's no secret that as much as Six enjoys affection, he refuses to receive it. Siete wishes there were some way he could help Six stop being so hard on himself. He tries not to be so forward, but at times he longs to let his affection overflow and wash over them both.

This is his first time vocalizing the desire for a kiss, despite having felt it many times before this, but he understands if he gets a rejection. It's a lot to ask of someone who's getting used to the idea of affection of any kind.

After consideration, Six bites his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing. "...No."

Siete smiles, tucks away the question for another day. He opens his mouth to respond, and then Six clarifies: "No, I'm _not_ sure."

The determination in his eyes, now and throughout the years, has been hidden for so long behind his mask. It's unfair, because Siete remembers why he loves the stars when they burn so bright in Six's eyes, the potential of catastrophic levels of energy honed into the opposite of destruction, and yet retaining the power to bring him to his knees.

Six falters for a second, dialing back the intensity. "But I want to be."

"Oh," Siete says, breathless, taken, captured. Six's face falls a fraction, and he stumbles to give a proper response. "No, no no, I'm not disappointed, I just... wasn't expecting you to agree."

"Neither was I," Six says, and the corner of his mouth twitches up into a shy smile. He looks away again, and he slumps against the counter. "I've never done this."

"That—" Siete coughs, nervousness choking his airways. "That's fine," he tries again when Six gives him a questioning look. "As long as you want to."

He puts a hand against Six's cheek, who leans into it as his eyes flutter closed. His heart drums like a march forward, drowning him in this muted moment. Time stops when their lips finally connect, and Six freezes before melting into him. He grabs at Siete's arm, tugging him closer, and every millimetre feels like a mile when Siete's hand comes around his waist to bring them together until they're almost chest to chest.

One of Six's hands presses against his shoulder, and Siete breaks the kiss, taking it as a sign that they need to pause. It wasn't the most rousing kiss he's ever had, or the longest, or the deepest—but as they part, he etches every detail he can to memory, the weight of history beginning to draw him back in like gravity back to his lips.

"Why did you stop," Six says, eyes still closed, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "That was... acceptable."

"'Acceptable'?" Siete laughs as he pecks at the corner of his lips. "I need to step up my game."

"If you can," and when he looks down at Six, he's biting back a crooked grin, eyes curved into crescent moons. His brazen smile is contagious and makes Siete's cheeks hurt before he knows he's smiling in return.

That sort of happiness should be shared, Siete thinks as he leans in again, feeling Six smile against his lips.

* * *

Later, as they return to their quarters, Six mumbles as Siete follows him inside his room for one more kiss. "Are we... dating?"

The question throws Siete off guard, because he thought it was clear enough already—but it's Six, after all. "Do you want to be?"

"Why do you keep turning questions on me?" he asks, tilting his head away. No matter. Siete kisses his cheek anyway.

"Because I know what my own answer is," Siete says. "I want to be sure you know what yours is so you don't feel obligated—"

Six leans up to peck him on the cheek, and it stops Siete right in his tracks. A smile spreads across his face as Six says, with faux annoyance, "Fine. Yes. Goodnight, Siete."

* * *

Because they have few moments between missions, they declare the nighttime as their domain.

With one major landmark of physical intimacy complete, Six becomes insatiable during their short periods together. Despite holding himself back, his eagerness is always easy to read in the curious touches against Siete's waist, his back, at the edge of his shirt and collar where his skin is exposed, but never anything more. Siete is the one that words the requests for his sake, and Six has never turned him down.

One night, he's settled under the covers when Six unlocks his door and creeps in. The thunderstorm outside is enough to hide any creaky floorboards and the sound of doors opening and closing, and Six feels the best on nights like these to take initiative.

Siete rolls onto his back, smiling as Six pushes the covers aside and sits beside him, leaning over. Six is wearing too many layers for the weather, and Siete feels warm just looking at him, but it's better than wearing his uniform to bed.

Siete keeps his hands where they're safe: one around Six's hip, one between his shoulder blades and roaming upwards to play with the hairs at the base of his neck. Six rests his weight on his elbows, on either side of Siete's head, and he sighs when their lips meet.

They stay like that for a while, kissing lazily. The thunder rumbles, and one of Six's hands plays at the hem of Siete's shirt again before he breaks the kiss. Siete looks up at his red lips and his bright eyes in the brief moment Six lets himself be seen in the flash of lightning.

Six's mouth opens, but after a few long seconds, a sigh comes out instead, and he hangs his head between his shoulders. Siete chuckles and kisses him on the forehead, waiting.

They stay like that, Siete rubbing circles with his thumb at Six's hipbone, and then Six's fingers twitch again. "...Can I?"

"Can you what?"

Instead of responding verbally, Six moves his hand so his fingertips have moved under Siete's shirt, grazing the skin above his hips.

In times like this, Siete would tease him until he puts his requests to words. But he finds himself anticipating, the feeling rising in his throat until all he can do is nod. Six sits back up, apprehension written all over his face as lightning flashes again. His fingers graze the bare skin underneath the hem of Siete's shirt, and then he splays his hands against his stomach. His touch is so light it feels like he isn't against Siete's skin, but instead hovering above. "Are you sure?"

Siete stares at him for a few seconds, trying to find the words. "I'm sure." To his response, Six frowns, lifting his hands to take them away. Siete's aware of how desperate he looks when his own hands dart out to keep contact, but he wants this, too. "Six, what's the problem?"

"These hands of mine are the problem." Six frowns, avoiding eye contact. "They have committed unspeakable sin. They are instruments of destruction."

Siete doesn't stop him this time when he frees himself from the grip, balling them into fists and wringing them in his lap. He looks up at Six. "Then how have the Eternals been by your side for the last... almost six years? We might be disasters, but we don't tolerate destruction."

He takes one of Six's hands and bring it up to his lips, tugging him closer. He makes eye contact with him as he kisses the palm, following the lines of each finger, and turning it over to kiss his knuckles and the back of his hand.

He repeats the motions, over and over, finding amusement in the way Six's face gets redder with every lightning flash. He stammers, "W-What are you doing?"

"Kissing your hands," he says.

"How is that supposed to help?"

"By letting you know I appreciate your hands for things that aren't, y'know, fighting. Like lovin'." The words are meant to be over the top to relieve tension, but Six's ears still droop, and he looks like he wants to walk out of the room. Siete tangles their fingers together while Six processes it, his face growing more and more troubled. "And you know, we— _I_ don't just trust the skies in anyone's hands. Literally _and_ figuratively. If you have something to say, better out than in. I can't do anything for you if you're stuck in there, love."

The nickname slips out before he realizes it, and his eyebrows raise as he looks up. Six is staring at him with an equally surprised expression, ears perking up straight like antennae.

"I... was hoping for a more dramatic time to say that, but it's true." He bites his lip. He has no desire to play it off as a joke, but he's suddenly afraid of having gone too far again, except this time instead of obscuring himself, he's made himself too open.

"Is it," Six mutters, voice low, hidden under the rumble of thunder outside.

"It is."

Six doesn't say anything else, and Siete's eyes are bound to watching every minute movement that he makes, waiting for him to get up and leave, try again another day. For Six, words are important because of their scarcity. It's an odd observation to assign to someone so verbose as Six, but he weighs each word carefully, always revealing too much and too little with everything that he says.

Siete is more free with his words, allows jokes to roll off his tongue and deserved compliments to lift spirits, but even hearing the word _love_ as a nickname might have been a step too far.

Six sighs. "Do you always let yourself say things so easily?"

"For something like that? Only if I mean it."

He swallows, waiting on Six's reaction. When the lightning flashes again, Six turns his intense gaze back to the hem of Siete's shirt. He slips his hands under, and Siete's quick to say, "Wait, don't push yourself just because of what I said."

"I'm not. I still want..." His ears droop with embarrassment. Siete relaxes with the knowledge that even if he hasn't finished the sentence, he's worded enough of the desire. Six moves his hands further up again, but his eyebrows furrow as he exposes more skin, and he pauses. "Why do you have so many scars?"

"You should know," Siete chuckles, trying to calm his heartbeat down from Six's insistence to touch him and the silent acknowledgement of the conversation his nickname brought. "We _do_ fight together. And I haven't exactly hidden them during the summer."

"I try not to look at you in that horrid outfit."

"I know you can't keep your eyes away from me," he teases, and Six huffs. Instead of continuing to push his shirt up, Six's hands move down to trace against the scars again.

Siete doesn't hide them. He has the most across his forearms, many of which were from he was more reckless and fought with minimal armour. He still receives injuries during his time with the Eternals, but the healing magic he encounters isn't perfect, so while he has scars from recent battles, they begin their life faded.

Compared to what's on his upper body, his arms must look worse, but Six must be discovering them for the first time in a different light. His fingers trace over every single one of them, exploring with more attention, and Siete tries not to squirm when he drifts on more sensitive skin. He twitches with a barely contained laugh and Six's head darts up at him, pulling his hands away like he's been burnt, but Siete lets his smile show.

"Ticklish," he breathes out, and Six rolls his eyes.

He goes back to tracing up and down the largest scar, the one that goes across his chest and diagonally down before his hip. "What was this?" he murmurs.

"You wouldn't believe me if I said it was a dragon, would you?"

"Dragons are hardly the strangest enemies we've fought."

"Dragon, then."

At this, Six gives him a look. "You're lying."

Of course he is. It's second nature for him to twist every personal memory he has, inconsequential or not, to keep everyone far away. Although he wants Six as close to him as possible, habit is hard to break.

But on the other hand, this one's just _embarrassing_. "...It's a very uncool story for a cool scar."

Six gives him a sly smile. "Don't worry. I was planning to laugh at you."

"That's not what I wanna hear," he jokes back. Still, Siete doesn't break eye contact, although he _does_ want to look away again. "So, this was... one of the first times I went and fought things on my own."

Six listens, continuing to trace the scar.

"It was a bunny."

His motion stops, and true to his word, snorts. "A rabbit."

"Hey, listen, everyone tells you about the big monsters. No one tells you how vicious _real_ wild Darius Bunnies are. Those teeth go on for _miles_ and it just… came at me. One second, I was thinking, 'hey, cute bunny', and the next I was nearly dead. Uno still brings it up sometimes when I'm about to do something stupid." He'd wanted to hunt extra provisions for him and Uno between the towns they were travelling, and while his swordsmanship was excellent, the unfair fight taught him never to underestimate his opponents, no matter how unassuming they looked.

Lost in the memory, he almost misses Six's reaction. Six raises his eyebrows, closes his eyes, and then a smile blooms across his lips. He's quick to hide it by turning away and covering his mouth, but it persists when he turns back, his eyes sparkling and the corner of his mouth still quirked upwards.

"Don't be mean," Siete whines, squeezing Six's hand. "I was dumb."

"'Was'," Six repeats, and this time, he can't hold back from giving a crooked smile, one that flashes with the lightning.

Siete stares for a moment, long enough for Six's ears to tilt in questioning. Like every night he spends with Six like this, there's nothing more he wants to do than to stare at how much more confidently he carries himself, how he can tease so easily when he was so ready to call everything off just moments ago. "Yeah, you're right. I'm still just an idiot. For you."

After giving him a pointed look, Six leans down and kisses at the scar, following it from top to bottom. Siete tries very, very hard to think of everything that is the opposite of arousing as Six approaches his hip.

If he's talking objectively, Six isn't the most skilled with physical intimacy. But his sincerity, his curiosity—hell, the feel of his lips in a moment like this, following deliberate shapes over his bare skin, is worth scores more than inexperience. He'd take Six over anyone else any day.

He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until Six props himself up to kiss him on the lips, hands roaming to push his shirt up further. Siete rests his hands around his waist again, and Six doesn't protest when he moves his sweater up just enough so his hands are resting on the bare skin of his hips. He pulls Six in, letting him do the exploration, and he discreetly tries to relieve pressure off his lower half by moving a leg further out.

* * *

It would be inevitable that the Eternals' observations on Siete's excessive cheerfulness and Six's increased openness would emerge as stemming from the same event. Six continues to be a private person even when they're together, but Siete occasionally catches him engaging in conversation with a higher patience threshold, to everyone's surprise.

His newfound sociability is most obvious when he accepts Song's invitation to stop by for a few drinks at a celebration barbecue. A few sentences of conversation with unfamiliar people still prompts him to hide at their table, but a hot summer's night is a good time for a drink, and more so after a job well done. Six dines with the others, staying by Siete's side instead of leaving at the first prospect of human interaction.

Siete could kiss him right now.

"Every summer gets wilder and wilder, huh?" he says to fight down that urge with a voice that might be too loud. He opens another can of cheap beer as he looks around the moonlit beach, over the crackle of the fire next to their picnic table.

"One day, all of us will be here," Song says. She's prone to giggles with alcohol in her, and despite her wistful tone, she's enjoying the festivities. As usual, the Captain of the Grandcypher brought half of his crew for the yearly summer threat to the skydom, but Siete isn't complaining. It's never a bad idea to mingle with other crews.

Maybe Siete's been drinking too much by this point, or the atmosphere is too relaxed. With everyone's conversation floating around him like ambient noise, all he can think about is leaning his head on Six's shoulder and putting an arm around his waist, initiating any sort of physical contact because he's _there_. But they haven't decided on telling the rest of the Eternals that they're dating yet, let alone finally doing so with what feels like the entire crew of the Grandcypher as audience.

The Eternals joke that Siete's leadership is mostly in name, but he's still their main organizational head. He has to remain as impartial as he can. He can't stop Six from going on certain missions that might be life-threatening. Six is by no means inexperienced, and Siete's trust in him and his work ethic is infallible, but he worries that Six would be _too_ willing to take hits for him if the situation came to it.

He knows he's the same, and he wears this feeling unabashedly. The Eternals would all brave the elements to protect the people they love, and Six is another layer to that.

Six nudges into him accidentally while reaching over him to grab a kebab, and it shakes him out of his thoughts. It's a celebration, the Eternals are here, and so is his boyfriend. They've helped prevent another incident in the skydom. It's a good night.

He rarely sees Six get drunk, and as Song strikes up a conversation with the others at the table, he can't stop himself from staring. Whenever Six drinks, he gets the same perpetually grumpy face, the one that's visible now that he's taken off his mask to eat the food Lyria brought them. The mask has been gone since the red glow started to bloom across his face, Six citing that it was _too hot_ while putting his mask behind him. (Siete holds onto it for safekeeping, nudging him to let him know.)

Six is also a voracious eater when he drinks. Out of the corner of his eye, he'll see Six's hand dart out of thin air, snatch a piece of meat, and then disappear. He has this habit at home too, but with more finesse. It's a wonder he _still_ gets drunk so fast between the amount he eats and the training of his upbringing, but Siete figures all Erunes are like that, judging by how easy it is to rile Quatre up right now.

When drunk, Six communicating comes in one of two extremes: verbose (more than usual, Siete thinks with amusement) or completely non-verbal. Tonight, he looks to be the latter. Song turns to him multiple times to start a conversation and he stares at her, deep in concentration, before nodding. She has to hide a giggle behind her hand while reminding him he's not talking.

A reminder from anyone is enough to catapult him to the other end of the scale, judging by how he reacts once Song manages to get one answer out of him. She brightens up and lets him ramble on as she laughs between bites.

Sarasa comes over with a huge plate of food and places it in front of her. Siete grabs a skewer he thinks she won't miss, but Six immediately reaches over to take it from him, stuffing it in his mouth. "Be careful, that's hot," Siete says with amusement, knowing his warning is too late.

"This is trivial. How many times must I tell you that your definition of spice is so pathetically non-existent it's insulting?" Six's frown grows as his glassy eyes turn up to his, neither knowing nor caring that Siete is talking about the temperature, not the spice. He's starting to lean too far forward, so Siete props him back up. His mouth is open to let the steam out, but with minimal trouble, Six mumbles, "When's my turn to cook?"

He says it louder than intended, but no one pays them any mind now that there's another round of food and drink. He glances around the table; he knows if he doesn't answer Six, he'll only get more persistent, which risks him raising his volume. "Thursday," he says lowly, enough for only him to hear.

"Thursday." He cackles, low and proud of himself, and Siete falls a little more in love. "Then you will understand the true meaning of spice. Karm was a godless land at times, and that extended to food."

Satisfied with that answer, Six picks up more skewers of meat. Siete turns back to Quatre—who shouldn't be drinking, mostly because he can wake anyone up within a five-kilometre radius with the volume of his voice—and strikes up their age-old argument of whether a large dagger is a sword.

He laughs, grabbing another beer while Quatre starts yelling again in retaliation, when he hears Song and Six from beside him.

"So you two get together to cook? I didn't think you two, of all people, would be such good friends!" There's a glint of playfulness in Song's eyes, and Siete double takes.

"We're not friends," Six enunciates, mouth open to cool down the food he's chewing.

Song tilts her head in confusion, and as Six opens his mouth to clarify, Siete thinks this could go wrong, fast. "You know the saying," he rushes over Six's next response, "Keep your friends close and enemies closer." He slings an arm around Six's shoulder and throws Song a peace sign. He must not be as sober as he thought, because he didn't realize how bad of an idea initiating physical contact would be until he did.

Six nuzzles his face in the nape of his neck. Siete's eyes widen, smile freezing in place. The entire table chooses this moment to look over at them, and his split-second panic has already said more than either of them need to say.

Not paying anyone's reaction any mind, Six drops into his lap, pulling the hood over his head and making himself comfortable before he closes his eyes. Quatre's white noise yelling transitions into the words, with not a beat to spare, "What the fuck?"

Everyone stares at Siete with looks ranging from disbelief (Song, Esser) to suspicion (Uno, Quatre) to unconcerned (Sarasa, eating faster now that no one is attempting to steal her food). He looks at all of them in turn. "He's... a touchy-feely guy," Siete tries. It's technically _true,_ but that's because Six is open with him and seeks out physical contact. He's better about casual physical contact over the years with the other Eternals, but not enough to lay his head in any of their laps, and he'd hope to god not enough to nuzzle his face into anyone else's _anything_.

"Six? _Touchy-feely?_ _"_ Song asks in disbelief. If _Song_ doesn't believe it, one of Six's closest friends among the Eternals, then he knows he's dug them both into a hole.

Siete pauses before answering. "Yes." With that, the option for denial disappears. His hesitation is clear enough that to try and back out would only increase the pressure.

Esser frowns in contemplation, tilting her head while trying to form her question. "Siete," she says, her calm demeanour stirring unease in him. "Are you two..."

The question goes unasked. Siete opens his mouth to answer, but it hangs open. Six shifts in his lap, and he knows he's not sleeping; he's too still, his breathing too shallow for what Siete has come to learn as his patterns of sleep. He's tense.

He's listening.

"Yes," Siete says, as if he had a choice to say anything else. He won't lie, and he and Six have talked in passing about this moment before. They never considered the possibility that there would be a good moment to tell everyone. This falls right within their expectations.

Sarasa, halfway through a skewer, snorts. "So what's the big deal? So they're mackin' at it. S'not like they haven't been doin' their jobs."

Uno raises his eyebrows. "An openly intimate relationship could prove dangerous. It's an easy way to target one or the other," he explains, in a neutral and careful voice that everyone at the table knows is anything but.

Uno's history and drive to create the Eternals is familiar to Siete. Absolute power cannot protect absolutely, as weaknesses will always exist. People are the double-edged sword of weakness and strength—family, close friends, loved ones, significant others. Uno is one of the first on board to encourage the friendship between the Eternals, but romantic relationships have their own set of problems, and Siete can't fault him for being wary.

It's easy to lose oneself while pursuing power to protect others.

"Ye _ah,_ " Sarasa says, tilting her head, "but we're Eternals. We're supposed to be the strongest. If they can't keep each other safe, then they never deserved it in the first place—"

 _"Sarasa!_ _"_ Song chides, but the damage is done. Six's hand comes up from underneath the table, a hand clawing into a fist and gripping the edge as he sits back up.

Even through the drunkenness, he manages to keep his scowl, eyes sharp. "Of course I know what risks I take. Do you know what risks I took by caring for any one of you to any capacity? Do you know," he says with a sneer, "what happens to the people I love?"

The remaining energy at the table drains immediately at his words; even Sarasa's eating slows as she lowers the skewer she's devouring. As foolish as it would be to misunderstand Uno's intentions, it would equally foolish to forget Six's contentious history.

Everyone in the skydom has heard of the child that killed his entire clan. Not everyone is aware that when that child killed his own father, it was without knowing that his isolation was for his own protection against the Karm clan. Despair and horror were Six's parents as a child, and now as an adult he carries the indelible weight of those ghosts with him, the inherited blood of betrayal beating as a reminder in his ears.

They know too of the man that had once came to pull him from the darkness, only to keep him in the shade, leaving him with promises of one day taking his hand to bring him under the blessing of sunshine. Six has been left behind by too many people, and none of the Eternals have forgotten.

Yet, Six still says, "The real risk is for all of you. For Siete. I have nothing left to lose."

Siete puts a hand on his knee and squeezes, no longer bothering to hide the action. This is a conversation they've had many times before, but never publicly. He knows that Six is talking to himself rather than anyone at the table, trying to reason once again that the relationship is a mistake.

Uno coughs, breaking the awkward silence that falls on the table. "...How long have you two been doing this?"

Six doesn't respond, ears flicking. Despite the tension, Siete feels the corner of his lips twitch with a smile. "Nine, ten months?"

"That long?"

Siete hums in confirmation.

"S'not like either of them have gotten any weaker since doin' this," Sarasa says, but less flippant than before. She scratches the back of her neck before offering a small grin, the closest to anything resembling an apology that she'll give. "Actually, Six fights me more now. I don't even gotta take his mask off anymore."

When the heavy air of the table is starting to relax, Quatre speaks up, quietly enough that Siete can't determine his emotions. "Is this what you want, Siete? Is this worth it?"

It's the first thing he's said since his earlier exclamation, and there's a scrutiny in it that skins Siete alive. The table freezes again; Esser's eyebrows raise as she puts a hand on Quatre's arm, but she's staring at Siete with the same inquisitive look she's had since the conversation started. She isn't vehemently opposed to Six's presence like her brother is, although he's tamped down his vitriol over the years—but the concern in her eyes is unmistakable. The two of them and Uno know more than anyone know the lengths he'd go to save the people closest to him.

The concern lies in the possibility of the Eternals' destruction, based on one misstep: that either he or Six develop misplaced priorities that endangers everyone.

But he knows too that Quatre and Esser know how it is to love so much that they nearly lose themselves. When he'd first met them, Quatre was ready to raze the earth to keep the kids of Stardust Town safe, and Esser was willing to lay her own life on the line for the same. Even Uno had been prepared to pursue absolute power to prevent the same tragedy that happened to him to befall anyone else. Love is their weakness, but it doubles as their greatest strength.

Six makes him happy, in the most uncomplicated way. It makes him _happy_ to see Six open up and talk to others and joke around and smile, no matter how fleeting the moment seems. It makes him happy to see someone with such a kind heart finally set free from its cage.

When Six _loves,_ it seeps into all other aspects of his life, catching everyone off guard and giving them the chance to be open with each other. "Yes and yes," Siete finally says. The answer was obvious from the start.

Quatre makes an annoyed noise. "I know," he groans without missing a beat. He closes his eyes and rubs at them. He should understand Siete's stubbornness; he surrenders to the response easier than only those less familiar with him would expect. "You got a stupid look on your face when I asked about him."

"Glad to see my little brother's lookin' out for me," he says, grinning now, "but I won't let this go for the world."

Six shifts, and he begins to mumble. "'When you find people that love you'," he starts, and Siete knows those words—was there with him when he first read them, hears Six say them to himself when he thinks no one is around—"'Never let them go'."

No one else knows of Six's father's journal or the words that skyfarer left him, and Siete's heart speeds up. Everyone that isn't Quatre smiles hearing the words (and Quatre rolls his eyes, saying the words are _too corny to be real_ ) but they don't know its significance.

It's a wonder to watch Six permit his heart to bleed into the spaces that love left behind. Despite his best attempts to control his emotions, he has always been quick to rise to the right challenge or to fall into darkness. Siete suspects the mask was partly a way for him to restrain his bleeding heart from anyone to observe.

It's a shame, Siete thinks, that Six would go so far to hide his greatest strength.

"We should have this conversation when Six is more sober," Siete decides. At the sound of his name, Six's ears twitch. "We'll head out for the night."

Quatre opens his mouth again, but Esser puts a hand on his arm again, stopping him. Either they'll all have a conversation again when Six is sober, or they'll corner Siete alone. But for now, they let them go.

The rest of the Eternals say goodnight, and then Siete tugs him up. "Let's get back to the ship."

* * *

Siete wakes up later than planned the next morning. He doesn't think anyone would mind, most likely nursing hangovers of their own, but last night's conversation about his and Six's relationship leads him to hasten his preparations for the day. He wants to talk to Six first and check his memory of the conversation, but when he can't find him in his quarters or any of his usual haunts, he turns his efforts to finding Quatre instead.

Dread falls over him when he finds neither of them, and he quickens his search. His concerns are confirmed when he can hear Quatre yelling at Six from down the hallway, in the doorway of the ship's training deck. Quatre rips his mask off of his face and tosses it away, letting it fall apart into pieces against the ground; not broken, but scratched up in the scuffle. Six covers his face, but he doesn't curl in on himself like usual—he stands even straighter, and Siete's inclination to step in is halted by his morbid curiosity.

"Look at you," Quatre snarls, and Six's visible eye lights up with anger. "You can't even face me properly with that fucking mask off. Is this a fucking joke? You want _me_ to believe that _you_ have the guts to do whatever it takes for him? For _anyone?_ Don't make me laugh—"

In a flash, Six's hands fist in his collar and pulls him up, forcing him to tiptoe. "You have no right to tell me what I am and am not capable of doing," he growls in his face, eyes wide and piercing. "You have no place to tell me that I lack the resolve to protect what's important in my life. There are few I would lay my life down for, and you cannot tell me I would not do so for Siete."

Quatre stays silent.

Siete decides to interrupt before it goes any farther. From where he's hiding, he calls out Six's name, feigning surprise when he sees Six with his fists curled in Quatre's collar. "What's going on here?"

Quatre's grin widens, malicious if not for the sparkle in his eye. Six lets him go, shoving him with more force than necessary, forcing him to readjust his balance. Ignoring Siete, he says to Six, "You won't even fight me?"

"Out of respect," Six growls, looking pointedly at Siete, "I will refrain. There is nothing to be gained from engaging in battle with you." He steps over the pieces of his mask and walks away, cape billowing down the hall.

"Pussy," he yells, and when Six is out of hearing range, he turns to Siete with a wry smile. "I think he likes you." It has a mocking tone to it, but it _is_ a sincere exclamation of support coming from him.

Siete knows that he's never gotten along well with Six, even if the sentiments were one-sided. As both of them came to terms with the nature of their power and how to move forward, Quatre had begrudgingly accepted that Six had grown to use his power to protect, rather than believing him to have wasted the gift he received and honed.

"Quatre," Siete reprimands, like he's lecturing a young child and not the young man he's grown to be. "I shouldn't have to tell you that you know better."

"I'm testing him," Quatre shrugs. "Seeing if he's taking advantage of your kindness."

"You don't trust me to take care of my own affairs?"

He snorts. "Of course not. But on the bright side, it looks like you two are perfect idiots for each other."

Siete puts on his _I_ _'m-disappointed-in-you_ face. "I know you're concerned for me in your own way—" Quatre laughs again, as if neither of them know this is his way of expressing concern for Siete in particular—"but it doesn't give you permission to try and browbeat answers out of someone I love. Clean up. I'll go talk to him."

At the word _love,_ Quatre makes a face. "Don't say I didn't tell you so."

When he arrives at Six's room, he's let in without a word. He sits beside Six, reaching for his hand; in return, Six tangles their fingers together, clasped in silent understanding. There's no need for Siete to prompt him. They both know what he's there to talk about, and so he offers nothing but his presence.

After he feels Six's pulse slow under his hands, Six mutters, "Quatre insinuated that I would be unable to rise to a challenge to secure your safety, should the time come." _Your happiness,_ he doesn't say. He stares at the wall, frowning in thought.

"There's a 'but' in there," he nudges, and Six slumps over, leaning a fraction towards Siete but not bringing himself to physical contact.

"I have to wonder whether this is a good decision." He hesitates before he says the next words. "Sarasa was right." Both of them know her crude warning held truth to it, one that neither of them particularly enjoy hearing. "There are risks. Using what we have as a weakness sickens me, but it remains a possibility. Either of us can be used to threaten to topple the Eternals. And there may come a day where I put others in grave danger to save you."

"I know you wouldn't do that."

"How—"

"You would never put others at risk. You would put only yourself." He kisses Six's temple and stays there, lips pressed against his skin. "I have nothing but complete faith in you. I don't regret a single second of the past ten months."

"I don't either," Six says, in hushed tones, a confession in the heart of the dim room.

Siete chuckles. "Isn't that the most terrifying thing."

There's a knock on their door, and Song's voice rings out. "Six? Are you in there?"

Six frowns, and his eyes flicker to Siete before he stands up to make his way to the door. "Siete's with me," he says opening the door for her and standing off to the side, leaving him sitting on the bed.

She steps into the room and looks at both of them, kindness in her eyes tinged with well-meaning concern. "Six, I heard you and Quatre arguing, so I wanted to ask you—but since both of you are here, this saves the trouble of asking Siete later, so I'll get to the point... Are you two happy together?"

At the question, they share a look. "We are," Siete says with confidence, as Six turns away, embarrassed by how natural the answer was.

"Are you sure?" She's unconvinced, eyeing by Six's reaction, and she turns her gaze onto Siete. "You don't have to hide anything from us anymore, you know."

To kill the tension, Siete blows Six a kiss, who puts his head in his hands. "Well, I'd like to have Six alive. He might combust if we don't keep it under wraps."

"Shut up," Six mumbles, and it makes him laugh.

"On a more serious note." Siete looks up at her. "I don't want anyone to feel like I'm giving Six special treatment for official Eternals business because we're dating. And of course, we didn't want any extra attention either, but that's not an option anymore."

Six makes a small embarrassed noise, one that makes Siete smile. Song notices; she has the most shrewd eyes of the Eternals, and her expression softens. "How long did you say this had been going on again before we found out?"

"Almost a year. Since last November."

Song smile washes over with relief this time. "I'm sorry we made you feel as though you had to hide. But it doesn't look like anything has changed among us as the Eternals, and if it has, it's been for the better. I've noticed you've looked happier, Six."

Six hunches over further, and he sighs. "Happiness is a struggle to believe in and an endeavour to find. However," he says, and it's with hesitance. Six has always relied on his actions to communicate emotions because of his struggle to put them to words. "It's a pursuit that I may have found... fruitful."

"So..." Song trails off, teasing lilt to her voice. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"Hm," Six starts.

Siete bites his lip to hide his smile. He refrains from telling her about how long it had taken Six to confess that he _tolerated_ Siete, let alone the amount of words it took him to say _yes_ to going out on a date with him. "Take your time," he can't help but say, and Six goes to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.

"...Yes," he grits out. He'd be worried with anyone else that they looked that displeased to say they were happy, but both Song and Siete look at each other with knowing looks, knowing that Six's sentiments are so strong that he'd pushed aside apprehension to say it at all.

"Good," she says, bringing her hands together. "I worry is all. I do hope your relationship goes well for you two, and I know the others are the same."

* * *

Six shows up late to dinner, the Eternals from last night in the middle of their meal. An awkward silence falls over the entire table as he takes his usual seat next to Siete, like it has been for years, even before their relationship started.

Siete keeps trying to eat, but it's disconcerting when everyone is staring at the two of them. Six crosses his arms, content to glare at the food with no intention of eating, his plate remaining empty.

"So," Song teases, either not sensing the awkwardness or not caring, "how are our two lovebirds?"

With her words, it feels like the earth starts turning again. Six's resolve crumbles and he puts his head in his hands and Siete tries not to laugh. Quatre rolls his eyes and mutters _come_ _the fuck_ _on,_ stabbing into his food with too much force _._

"What?" she exclaims, with mock offense. "I'm curious! I want everyone to be open at the dinner table. I don't want us to hide things from each other. _I,_ for one, am glad that there's love and affection in this crew for once."

Six mumbles words Siete can't hear into his hands, ears drooping.

Uno chuckles. "It _is_ nice to see some positive relations among the Eternals."

"Not you too, now," Siete groans, but it's good-natured, and he can't stop the smile that springs to his lips.

Uno may have been frosty at last night's barbecue, but Siete's known him for long enough that he can recognize him putting on the pressure to test them for cracks. It's his way of showing his support, and it's how he's done so over all their years of friendship. Strength through adversity, he'd tell Siete. He may have been the one that threatened to remove Nio from the Eternals when she'd lost her power, but he was also the most concerned; no one was happier that she'd found her melody again than Uno.

As if summoned, Nio walks in with an empty plate from the kitchen, and she stops to frown at everyone so abruptly it's comical. She takes special care to direct her frowns to Six and Siete before taking her regular spot at the table. "What happened at the barbecue?" she asks. "Everyone sounds more in tune tonight."

"How so?" Song asks, mischief plain on her face.

Nio looks at Siete and Six again, a quick glance, and then she double takes. "Are you up to something?" she says, making it unclear which of the two she's addressing.

"They're dating," Song smirks, "For almost a _year_ they've been up to something."

"I know _that,"_ Nio says with an age-old tiredness, and Siete blinks in disbelief.

All noise at the dinner table stops to stare at Nio, who continues serving herself food.

She _what?_

"They've sounded like this for years," she complains. "But it's only now that your melodies have rejoined with theirs."

Six pushes aside the plate in front of him and puts his head on the table, ears flattening against his head.

"Huh?" Siete stares at her. " _Huh_? And you... you didn't say anything?"

"What was there to say? Your inner turmoil was self-explanatory." Nio cuts into her food, shrugging. "It didn't sound like you wanted anyone to know, and there were no outward changes, so I said nothing. It was none of my business."

She continues eating, uncaring that all eyes in the room are on her after she'd dropped her bombshell. Slowly, everyone turns to the two of them again.

"So. Years, huh?" He nudges Six, who swats at his hand.

"Nio, you've given him an ego," Six mutters.

Song _aww_ s, and he says, "You know, I was talking about me, but you can expose yourself if you'd like."

Quatre groans again, taking his plate to the sink and complaining the entire way. "This is the fucking _worst._ There's not a single good thing about this development, and if any of you say otherwise I'll know you're lying. Siete should be banned from dating if this is what he subjects us to."

"Aw," Siete coos, "I know you're happy for your big brother."

"Shove it," Quatre yells, enunciating his words. "Up your ass."

"You know what I can sh—"

"Please, no," Song rushes to say, raising her hand. "It's nice that you're joking about it with us, but that's a bit too much."

Even then, she's smiling as she says it. Nio's long-suffering weariness gives way to amusement, and Uno looks content to watch this unfold alongside Sarasa, who is once again taking food off people's plates while they're distracted. Six hasn't removed his head from his hands, but he hasn't retreated from the situation.

There might have been little reason to keep their relationship apart from the Eternals, Siete thinks as he bumps his shoulders into Six's. There's only more love to go around when they're looking out for each other's well-beings as a team.

* * *

That night, the mask shows up at the foot of Six's door, repaired and shined new.


	3. but it wouldn't be make believe

When the novelty of discovering their relationship fades from the Eternals' minds, and the supportive yet embarrassing comments slow down, the two of them find peace in their routine of dating.

Three years later and Six still feels clumsy about reminding himself that he's dating Siete: Star Sword Sovereign, Leader of the Eternals, sword enthusiast, crew-appointed pain in the ass.

Six's boyfriend.

Showing affection has become easier over time. He enjoys holding hands and no longer shies away from the small kisses and more intimate activities, but saying _the_ words adds a decisiveness to their relationship that he still isn't prepared to navigate.

Siete doesn't seem to mind at all. On the contrary, his devotion hasn't diminished over the years, and despite the persisting worry that he's never enough _,_ Six feels the same.

In the base that Siete continues to renovate to accommodate their growing lives, Six keeps his old room intact. There are days when his mind insists he doesn't deserve the affection he receives, and that the only remedy is to hide away. But there are an immeasurable amount of days where he wakes up next to Siete in the morning after night of restful sleep, and the notion that he'll wake up a second time from a dream fades as time passes.

It feels like Siete knows him better than he knows himself with how well he reads Six's moods, and he remembers why he used to wear his full mask so often. It's pathetic how easy it is for people to look at him and know every thought that crosses his mind, broadcast on his face.

Siete has always been the complete opposite of him, almost always in control of what he shows others. Six would be suspicious with anyone else that attuned to not only their own emotions, but those of others, but Siete is unlike anyone he's ever met. With him, Six drops his mask both literally and figuratively, knowing he is safe, because Siete will do the same around him.

It's hard for the other Eternals not to take notice. They don't comment anymore when Six walks around the base with half of his mask, uses another flimsier way to cover his face, or, in rare occasions, when he doesn't cover his face at all. They smile brighter and talk to him longer. It's an equal exchange when it comes to trust, and when he trusts Siete during their most intimate moments, it's easier to have faith in the other people he's known for the better part of a decade.

* * *

It's no secret Siete adores him with his entire being. For the first while after everyone learns of their relationship, Siete does his utmost to prevent preferential treatment towards Six on missions and chores around the base, and making up for it by being cloyingly sweet to him in private. But there's being impartial during missions, and there's being distant from Six during times where their lives aren't in danger for the sake of a balance they're in no danger of tipping.

If Six can bare his heart and only grow stronger for it as the years go on, Siete can relax about trying to keep up appearances, at least within the base when they're surrounded by people they trust. It takes time to get used to, but he stops feeling awkward asking the Eternals to entertain their infrequent requests for date nights off. The girls especially push for them to have _more,_ because by their observations, they don't spend as much time with each other as they should. Whenever Siete mentions their enthusiasm to Six, he gets flustered, ears twitching, before agreeing.

Over time, Six accepts the sleepy pecks Siete gives to the top of his head when he's making breakfast in the kitchen with the others. The only reaction he has is to flick his ears in his face, and Six not shying away from the little domestic actions over time is what makes his heart warm the most. They don't make public displays of affection their lifestyle following the discovery, but the guilt that once forced secrecy disappears, their affection freely flowing between the space of their everyday lives.

* * *

Although the Eternals give them concessions almost every time they ask, most of their time together is spent outside of the base.

At the café where the young Erune woman has long since found them a regular table in a hidden corner, Siete is reviewing the Eternals' expenses while Six is eating pastries, looking out the window. The weather is spotless, and yet Six filled with the familiar sense of not belonging in his own skin, waiting for the moment where he wakes and finds himself in the old hamlet surrounded by ghosts.

Siete puts a hand on his. When Six turns from the window to stare, he's met with a concerned smile, turned up from underneath reading glasses. "I can hear you thinking again."

Six looks at him with a croissant half-lifted to his mouth, crumbs falling onto the table and into his lap. He sets it down onto the plate and sighs, wiping his hands off with a napkin. "Give me some of those."

Siete passes him a small stack of sheets, not taking his eyes away from him. "Those are the biannual base repair costs, not including a few days ago when Sarasa took a window out from the first floor training room. Again."

He inhales, exhales. Looks down at the papers. Siete's foot comes around to his, hooking around his ankle and resting there, and he learns how to breathe again. The past few days have been a struggle for him, his mind continuously wandering backwards in time, and even with Siete's reassurance it's shaping up to be a bad day.

A commotion from outside the window interrupts his thoughts, and his ears instinctively turn towards the ruckus before his head follows.

Siete won't mind the distraction; paperwork takes time, and he's a firm believer that it's not how long it takes, but the time they spend together. But this distraction has the potential of going further, and his eyebrows furrow at the sight he finds. Through the street is a small parade of people dressed in light pastels, and at the front leads a happy couple in bright white, flower petals following them like a dream.

He doesn't envy them. The sort of attention a celebration like theirs brings has never been a desire of his. Besides, he knows less people than there are in that small crowd. A wedding is only an illusion he sees at his most vulnerable. It's one of the most extravagant shows of anyone's love, and for people like them—for people like _Six—_ it may never be a possibility. He won't deny that the image has crept into his mind, but he chases it out to save them both the inevitable heartbreak.

Those fleeting thoughts rise to the surface to drown him as the scene outside commands his attention. His throat tightens as he watches, the love in the newlyweds' every action enrapturing him and severing him even farther from reality.

"Spring is a nice time for weddings." Siete nudges Six more and more insistently until he turns to face him. He's got a smile on his face and a look in his eyes like he's on a mission, and he knows that Siete's trying to ground him right now, even if they'll never say it. "I've been seeing a few lately, but I wonder why theirs is so public. I heard they did that once for the survivors of a civil war, celebrating the persistence of human spirit through great tragedy and all that."

The scene outside them nags at his attention again, even though Siete is staring at him—and he must look bad if Siete puts the pen down to hold both of his hands, rubbing circles into their backs. He's too engrossed in the spiral of his thoughts telling him he can't have this happiness to be embarrassed by the intimacy of the action.

Every small circle Siete draws urges him to say something, _anything._ As painful as the process is, they've been through this before. Siete's encouragement to drain his thoughts like poison from his bloodstream helps him remain in the present.

"Do you envision yourself being married?"

 _Better out than in,_ Siete still says whenever he smooths out the crease between Six's eyebrows, to undo his frown and jolt him out of the thoughts that consume him. _Lay it out between us and I'll do the same_ _, love._ Six followed his advice, and wasn't that a mistake? He shuts his eyes and sinks back into the seat, retracting his hands from Siete's and puts a hand to the forehead of his mask.

It was hasty of him to ask that and lead Siete on when he doesn't feel well-equipped to answer that question for himself. There are still days where he questions if their relationship is real or whether it's not a horrific torture relying on his propensity to hope for a better life. He still worries that one day, this life will be taken away from him, and not in the natural, organic way that death and battle tend to bring. That one day, he'll wake up and find that none of it was real.

"Six," Siete says, breaking him out of his thoughts again, and he expects the worst. He cracks his eyes open, and Siete's eyes flash with concern, but it's overshadowed by the pure brilliance of his smile, the goofy one he's now very familiar with. It's the same smile that tells him he's said something odd without realizing, and that Siete thinks it's the best thing in the world.

"Siete."

"Do _you_ wanna get married?"

"I'm the one asking," he frowns. "When one sees so many weddings in a short time span, it's surely on their mind."

"I know, I know. I'll answer your question, don't worry," Siete laughs. When he trails off into thought, it's not without his trademark smile, crow's feet deepening the edges of his eyes from years of amusement. "I didn't think I'd get married. The idea was nice, but nothing I was vying for." Siete pauses. "Though we _have_ had the whole settling down conversation before, haven't we?"

"...As if I could forget." A new wave of embarrassment rushes over him, and he turns his head away, even if his face is hidden under the mask.

His mind, already in overdrive, engulfs him in memories of their conversation at the pub, when he'd been convinced that Siete could never simultaneously dedicate himself to a single person and the Eternals' mission. Siete grins as Six winces. "Ah, so you do remember. Might have already been holding a candle for you at that point. I felt like testing the waters. Did it work?"

Six refuses to answer the question. "It took another two years for you to say anything."

"And then you thought to take my words about knocking me out if I wanted to settle down seriously." Siete's laugh is hearty. "I love that about you, y'know. That you go all in for everything."

Six's heartbeat speeds at the word _love_ , like it's never failed to during their relationship. "Be quiet. I was prepared to call your bluff."

"I believe you on that front, don't worry." He can hear the smile in Siete's voice, and he turns back to finding a wistful look on his face, mouth hidden behind a hand as he follows Six's line of sight to the view out of the window. "You know, I wanted to be by your side, even if it meant never admitting my feelings. But after a while I thought both of us could use the push."

He looks at Six from under his eyelashes and takes a sip of his coffee, and Six fights the heat that rises up his neck and makes his face flush. "Anyway, marriage, marriage. It's not a bad idea, but no pressure. If you wanna throw a ring at me with no ceremony, I'd be happy. Or even if you don't wanna throw one at me. As long as you're with me, I'll do anything."

The voice that causes turmoil in his mind is easier to fight it down when they're talking. "I've never given it much thought. It was always an impossibility, a thought that wasn't helped by your words that same day."

"It affected you that much?" Siete's smile this time has a hint of sadness in it.

"Don't you dare regret those words," Six reassures him. If it hadn't been for that conversation, Six wouldn't have considered giving weight to any of his feelings towards Siete. "I hate to admit, but they ended up doing more good than harm in the long run."

"Regardless of your feelings about weddings," Siete hums, and Six notices the subtle shift into business mode, "looks like we've just been invited to _this_ one." He looks out the window and behind the crowd of people, where monsters attracted to the commotion are emerging. Siete pushes his glasses back into his hair, gathers their papers, and sets rupies onto the table as he and Six get up, the drawing of their metallic weapons harmonizing with the entrance bell of the café.

It's an easy battle, nothing they haven't seen in their nearly eight years of being Eternals. Six steadies his breathing, and Siete's movements are closer to dancing than to arduous battle. The familiar motion of clearing out mobs helps expend some of his nervous energy, letting muscle memory guide him. He pays no attention outside of his and Siete's movements until the last monster is down and he turns around, startling at the wedding group having stopped their parade to cheer them on.

They try to keep it as contained as possible so as not to disturb the ceremony, but it's hard to ignore a pair of well-trained fighters preventing the monsters from interrupting the happy couple's ceremony. The group invites them to the reception, but celebration of his work still makes him uncomfortable, especially in his current state of mind. Siete notices, a constant in a time like this, so he puts an arm around Six's shoulders and says a corny line about having other weddings to save. Everyone takes it in good humour, wishing them well.

Today is one of their rest days together that the rest of the Eternals agreed on ( _insisted_ on) giving them, and he wants to go back home and curl up under the sheets with Siete beside him. But he doesn't want to deny Siete from enjoying the picturesque weather on their day off, either. It's been a while since they've enjoyed nature together, so he lets Siete hold his hand and lead him somewhere quieter.

The lake on this island is one that most of the Eternals have taken to whenever they want to spend time outside of the base. They rest on one of the benches to watch the waves lap at the shore, and Siete is talking again, but Six can't focus, trying to hide his fists clenching.

Siete puts a hand on one of them and kisses his temple. "Six."

He worries his bottom lip with a fang, debating on whether he should ask or not. "What do weddings mean to you?" he decides on saying. It's the most superficial thing on his mind, floating above the insecurity of their relationship and whether Six is inviting disaster by giving the ceremony a possible space in his life.

(Is Six even allowed happiness like this, let alone one so public?)

"Well," Siete says, and he draws out the syllable until Six is forced to glare at him. He gets a grin for his efforts. "It's _supposed_ to be the bonding of two souls. Some people do it under the witness of a greater power, but I think it's a nice culmination of two people's love for each other. _'_ _T_ _il death do you part_ and all that."

"Is this something you want?"

"What I want is to be with you. I don't care how we do it. As far as I'm concerned, I've already dedicated my life to you until the moment we die."

Six's eyebrows raise, and he hides his reddening face in his hands. Under the sound of his beating heart and the waves against the shore, another voice croons to him in a maliciously sweet siren's song. It sings to him to chase happiness, urging him to fall into the trap of hope. Siete leaves no room for Six to doubt his feelings, so he turns it inwards to doubt his own.

But he has to admit, there isn't much he can doubt. Refusing to look at Siete, he mumbles into the palm of his hand a truth that not even the worst of his days can shatter: "And I, you."

"Cool. We're married now, I guess." Six rolls his eyes at the nonchalance that he never fails to appreciate. "But to be serious for a moment."

"A novelty for you."

When Six looks over at him, he's still turned towards the shore, smiling. "It doesn't matter to me whether we have a ceremony or not. Knowing is enough for me."

* * *

The conversation echoes in Six's mind, another voice to add to the turbulence as of late, but it has an unexpected side effect. He wonders what it would be like to feel a plain band of metal around his left ring finger and know that there was a matching one around Siete's, underneath the gloves that they wear for their uniforms.

Thoughts never want to leave him alone, and soon his actions follow. He stares at Siete's arm draped around his waist when he wakes in the middle of the night, imagining what the moonlight would look like reflected on a ring. He narrowly avoids injury when they spar in the early evenings, Six distracted by thinking about the feel of the hilt of Siete's sword pressing against a ring. He drowns in possibilities and forgets the present when they're eating breakfast with the Eternals and their uniforms aren't yet donned, hands bare.

There are weeks of fleeting moments like this, where Six thinks he'll be focused until their conversation by the lakeside comes rushing to him, thoughts lapping at— _crashing_ into the edge of his consciousness. He thinks about it again one night when Siete comes up behind him as he's brushing his teeth, arms draped around his waist, hands splaying across his stomach, head resting on Six's shoulders.

He imagines, simply, what it would be like to feel his ring there, cool against his skin.

"I can hear you thinking from across the base," Siete hums, the stubble of his lazy shaving job scratching the sensitive skin on Six's neck.

Six rinses his mouth. "I want to get married," he mumbles without thinking. It's not what he means to say, and yet is the most succinct way to word what's been on his mind. When he finally registers what he's said, he stands with his mouth slack and water dripping out, staring at Siete in the mirror.

He looks down at Siete's hands, and then back up to make eye contact. Six can see the flush of red tinge his own cheeks, but he remains resolute.

Siete's smile leaves an imprint against his bare skin as he kisses his shoulder. "What made you change your mind? You already know I love you."

He says those words with ease every time, but their effect never diminishes. "Then I want to see," he says, fighting the heat rising up his face. If he were to take the statement back now, Siete would only get more persistent, and Six is done stewing over the possibility.

In response, Siete laughs and kisses up the side of his neck this time. "I could leave marks where they're visible, if you want everyone to make fun of us for weeks again."

"Siete."

They stand there for a few seconds in content silence. "You know, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't on my mind, too."

"What were you thinking?"

Siete hums. "Rings for sure, but maybe even a ceremony. At a nice quiet place where we can say vows and make out without people watching." Six flicks his ear in his face, and his nose scrunches. "Kidding, kidding. But as fun as it looks to parade down the streets and yell at everyone about how much I love you, it's too much hassle. At the end of the day, I want us to have a good time."

He mulls over the words and averts Siete's gaze in the mirror, finishing up his nighttime routine. With Siete hanging off his waist, they waddle back to their room. Six bristles less at public displays of affection, but even though their room is only a few metres from the bathroom, he makes the effort to return before anyone can see them.

The question he'd accidentally asked haunts him in the short journey, and when they've returned to their quarters, Six falls face first on the bed in embarrassment. He grunts when Siete's entire weight lands on him before he rolls off. "You've thought about this," Six mutters into the sheets.

"Of course I have," Siete whines, curling up beside Six, hooking a leg around his waist to keep him in place. "I see a bunch of weddings, you ask me about them out of nowhere, and before I know it I'm thinking about how to figure out what your ring size is."

Six nudges him off and climbs under the sheets. Siete follows, arm around his waist and pulling him in, kissing the back of his head. As Six leans back into his chest, he says, "Not this soon."

"It _is_ a bit hasty." Siete chuckles. "As long as you know I love you, regardless of whether we have a ceremony."

"You never shut up about it. It would be difficult to forget."

"Good," Siete says, kissing him again. "I won't let you."

* * *

"What—" Siete hisses when Six sanitizes the gash on his thigh. "What do you wanna do about wedding guests?"

"Excuse me?" He applies too much pressure on the wound while looking at him in disbelief, and Siete's leg twitches in pain.

It's not the first time he's gotten himself injured in battle. These aren't even the worst wounds he's sustained. But it doesn't stop Six's concern from showing plain on his face, thinly veiled by annoyance, every time Siete shows back up to the sick bay.

Neither of them are worried about the other's technical performance in battle, carrying years of combat experience both with and without the Eternals. But love is hardly rational, so Siete doesn't take it as an insult to his skill that Six worries when he returns with minor scrapes and bruises.

"Our wedding," he repeats with difficulty, watching his blood blossom outwards against the bandages wrapping his upper body. Alright, not as minor as he thought. "We can try to rope the Eternals into helping us set up the reception."

"Is this the time for a discussion like this?" Six seethes, making the bandages too tight. He hardly looks apologetic when Siete winces, but he loosens them to a tolerable degree before walking away.

Breathing grows harder when Six leaves him. "No, hey, stay." He tries to grin, but it's more of a grimace, and the pain makes his head spin. He wants Six back, to feel like he's upright again.

Six looks over his shoulder, frowning with disapproval, holding up a glass of water. "What the hell did you even do?"

He shuts his eyes, trying to will the dizziness away. When he opens them again, Six is standing back in front of him, and he manages a wobbly grin. "I fell." Siete wheezes.

Standing in front of him, Six says, voice flat, "You fell."

"Fell in love with your beautiful eyes." He tries to laugh, but it sounds more like he's gasping for air, each chuckle sending pain through his entire body. "How you doin', babe?"

"Can you focus for once?"

"It's easier to talk to you than it is to do anything else."

He feels lightheaded when Six pushes the glass of water into his hands, holding it steady when he sees small ripples on the surface. Six helps him lift it to his mouth, keeping his hands from shaking any further.

Either the pain medication's kicked in, or the pain is making him want to distract himself, because he can't stop talking when Six moves to put the empty glass down, as if to call him back with inane conversation topics. "Wait, what are we gonna do about Terra? She'll be sad if she can't come. We have to let her know. But it's hard to bring her anywhere, as much as we love her. We should find an equally large tortoise to host parties on. Like a party bus."

His hands are shaking as he lays his head down on Six's shoulder, wincing with the action. Six puts his arms around his shoulders, embracing him, before maneuvering him so he's lying down. When Siete's settled and the shaking in his hands has dulled, Six whispers into his ear, leaning down and making sure not to put any pressure on his wounds, "I'm sure she'll forgive us. Just focus on getting better."

"Six, please, if I die here—"

"Don't," Six hisses, cutting him off, even though they both know it's a joke. Siete looks up at him in apology, moving a hand to hold his.

He looks down at his body, at the bandages wrapping around his skin, at the blood already staining through. He'll be fine while waiting for Funf to return with her magic, but when he's in this sorry of a state, barely able to sit up, jokes about death only remind them of their mortality.

Despite their name of Eternals, he knows better than anyone that they're far from it.

Siete's not himself right now, but he still tries to move his hand to cup Six's face before wincing with pain. Sensing his intention, Six sighs and leans down again, pressing their foreheads together.

"Six, if I pass out and I forget everything I said here tonight, please tell Terra I love her and sorry about wedding venues not accepting large tortoises."

Six's chuckle fans warm air across his face, clear with relief. "Tell her yourself."

* * *

"We gotta take pictures," Siete shouts as he's scrubbing a toilet, excited voice resounding off the porcelain.

"Right _now?"_ Six pokes his head into the bathroom, holding a broom.

"No, at the wedding."

Six's ears straighten atop of his head, twitching. "One. _One_ picture."

"We have to take a _few,_ " Siete whines, leaning back and wiping sweat from his brow. "With us two. Then with the Eternals. And your mask has to be off."

"Siete..." Six looks away, grip tightening against the broom handle.

"It would be nice to look back and see," Siete suggests. "You'd look great. I'd look great. And there's empty space on the walls here."

"...Only a few," Six mumbles. "With the Eternals."

Siete perks up, pleased with Six including the Eternals to begin with in a group picture. They don't have many pictures of all ten of them around the base, only scattered candids and some celebrations. "Speaking of guests, I'm thinking 'bout friends from the Grandcypher again. Silva's a no-brainer, imagine telling Song her own girlfriend can't come. Funf would probably riot too. Then Sarasa would join in rioting, because it looked fun. Narmaya, she and Funf and Okto are on great terms now—Ladiva for sure, and the summer regulars would be fun..."

"When the hell did we get to know so many people?" Six scratches the back of his head, and he adds as he walks away, "Invite them _after_ pictures, then. It might be nice."

* * *

It gets easier to find Siete over the years whenever Six needs to, in part because Siete lets himself be known, and in part because he never quite changes. He has a question on his mind, and one of the first places he goes to is the workshop, where he finds him forging a new sword, judging by the new blueprints all over the walls of the work bench. Siete's collection of spirit swords has grown to obnoxious proportions over the years, but he's never stopped talking about how there's nothing quite like forging one on his own and watching his designs come to life.

Six takes a few moments to observe him, his back muscles shifting under his thin shirt as he strikes the metal, over and over again. He walks far enough into the workshop to see the blueprints of the Eternals-inspired blade designs he's been working on for the better part of a year.

Siete _must_ know he's there by now, hovering, but he's too focused to say anything until prompted. "...Siete."

"Yes, babe, love of my life, keeper of my heart?" He doesn't turn around as he puts the sword back into the forge, but Six knows he's grinning at the nickname underneath his visor.

"Never mind," he says, but doesn't turn around to walk away.

"No, tell me." When Six watches him, he whines. "Six, come on."

"What food do people eat at weddings?"

"Huh?" Siete looks up at him with full attention this time, pushing his visor back into his hair and smiling, radiant. "You're thinking about the wedding?"

"Am I not allowed?"

Siete scurries over to give him a peck on the cheek before returning to his work. His lips are hot like the forge, eyes ready to ignite, and it sparks the corners of Six's mouth into a smile. "Please, think all you want. As for food... the Eternals don't have any dietary restrictions, so we have options."

"Are you planning to cook?"

"No, I'm planning to stay by your side all night and never let you go, sweetums." Six makes another face. "Though I know a guy. A swordsman that started a café for some reason with three other friends. He might not be able to cater for us directly, but he could point us in the right direction. And speaking of, I know an Erune that loves weddings _and_ designs clothes."

Six looks at the blueprints on his desk, at Siete striking the metal against the anvil, and he says, "You're not making more clothes?"

"I thought all my clothes were too flashy for you. You say it every time you put on that coat I made for you in the winters."

"...It _is_ an occasion."

Siete glances at him, and Six can't tell what his expression is under the visor, but the shock in the sudden motion is clear. "...I was thinking of asking Korwa for help," he starts between strikes. "But she does especially like weddings. If we let her take the reins, it'll be a surprise."

"If we do this."

Siete laughs, holding the steel up to the light and watching it reflect off the sun. "If we do this."

* * *

Six puts his cutlery down, and his eyebrows furrow with thought. Siete tilts his head at his pursed lips, waiting for his thoughts to find words while putting another spoonful of food in his mouth.

"Should we... invite your family?" Immediately after Six says it, he bites the inside of his cheek in apprehension.

Over time, Siete's attached stories to the people in the photograph Six had seen once and showed him the first response letter he'd gotten from his father. He sends letters periodically, relegating them to twice-a-year updates during high-volume times, when letters might become lost and obscure their source, even he trusts Siero to be discreet.

He doesn't include return addresses, but he still gets a few letters back from time to time through Siero. His father becoming officially knighted for his services, his own little brother getting married, their first child, the slow but steady rebuild of the town—now a city—he once called home.

Between his stories about the Eternals, he tells them about Six—first as a postscript, and then with increasing enthusiasm when he received a letter half a year later on with congratulations and scolding about why he wasn't more excited, along with extra pictures of his little brother and his family.

Siete isn't embarrassed about his relationship, but his own words about settling down and never finding someone had remained in Six's mind so firmly until he'd worked to prove against that. He'd recalled the story in a letter once, and it came as no surprise to the blood family that raised him, that the recklessness of his words would cause such anxiety.

Being read so easily is just as embarrassing, but he's been practicing being more open, all this time, with Six by his side. "Huh. Might not be such a bad idea."

* * *

"If we want rings, we should start gathering materials now," Six says under his breath as the law enforcers of the town they're in are apprehending the criminals. Both of them are hiding in the shadows, waiting for an opportune moment to disappear so their involvement can stay undiscovered.

Petty theft isn't normally in the repertoire for crimes that the Eternals intervene in. But if they're passing by, there's no harm in stopping a pair of hooligans that think they can rob the most renowned jewellery store in the entire skydom. Quiet intimidation never hurt thugs. _"_ _Now?_ Are you suggesting we commit robbery while ourselves apprehending robbers? Devious, Six, I fell in love with you for a reason," Siete cackles.

"All these years and I understand less what goes on in your mind."

Siete lowers his voice, with a hint of awe that makes Six simultaneously regret asking while making him wish he'd done so sooner. "You wanna forge the rings ourselves? I was considering it, too."

"It's the time of season again when the Celestials return," Six mumbles. "Gold may be a more likely resource than before."

"I was thinking gemstones too. Nice and simple. Though unlike you, I'm not planning to rob prospective clients and innocent people blind for them."

Behind the mask, Six rolls his eyes. "Your words of faith in my inner goodness were empty after all."

Siete reaches out to hold his hand. "Untrue. I have a lot of faith in you. Specifically, your love for me. You'd get yourself in trouble for me, wouldn't you?"

"Rather optimistic of you."

* * *

Siete's grinning at him like he's privy to knowledge that Six isn't. With a sigh, he turns away from the turtle topiary he's shaping. "What, Siete."

"I talked to Terra the other day. She says you already told her."

Embarrassed, he turns back to the hedge, frowning at it. He swears he can feel Terra rumble with amusement beneath him. "It was your request."

* * *

The skies are safer than they were, but there's always a new threat, different people that need help. The talk of weddings taper off as the weather grows hotter and crimes increase, and the two of them grow busy with Eternals work, falling into bed together at the end of a long set of missions.

On a summer day with record highs, Siete gets called over to Auguste Isles after a gang with ambitions too high detonated their homemade explosives in a cove. Luckily, few people had been hurt, but there were injuries to be tended to, parts of the town to clean up, and it's shaping up to be a long day of work ahead of him. _Nothing out of the ordinary for summer_ , he jokes when he asks Uno and Funf to come with him.

When they have time to slow down and catch their breath with soft serve ice cream in their hands, he takes a moment to look at the two of them.

Uno has been a friend by his side for many years, seeing him through as a stupid teenager to the man he is now. Through every trial and hardship that Siete's gone through, Uno's been there to chide him, to guide him, and to be a pillar of strength wherever the Eternals needed. And Funf—she's thirteen now, and how she's managed to survive living with the nine of them when they're all neurotic to the bone is a miracle in itself. She attends a small school in the closest town to the base and is adjusting well, to everyone's relief. She's got a wicked sense of humour, a strict adherence to justice, and isn't afraid to buckle down against adults she doesn't think are doing their jobs. She's a force at this age, and Siete can't wait to see where she ends up a few more years down the line.

She's really reaching _that_ age, he thinks as Funf she looks up at him with an inquisitive sparkle in her eye. "So," she says, in a voice that's too sweet, "you and Six are getting married soon, right?"

"Uh," Siete chokes. He instinctively looks to Uno for guidance, and he instead finds passive amusement. "Maybe. What?"

Even though the answer is non-committal, it has an immediate effect on Funf, bright grin growing impossibly brighter. The older she gets, the cheekier she gets, and Siete feels like whatever she's about to say next is going to drag him within an inch of his life.

Funf chirps, "You should do it soon. Before you get _too_ old."

"Funf," Uno says, not trying to hide the chuckle as Siete gapes on. "Siete isn't _that_ old. What does that make me?"

"Both of you, killing me," Siete complains. "But yeah, we've thought about it—"

Funf gasps, her mouth open wide, her eyes comically large with shock. "You _have?!"_

"Yes, but—"

Funf whoops, fist pumping while balancing her ice cream in her other hand. "When, when?"

"We haven't decided if we're even doing anything yet—"

"But you _have_ thought about it," Uno says, stroking his mustache. There's a glint in his eye that Siete doesn't recognize, and it shocks him out of answering for a few seconds.

Neither Siete nor Six have forgotten the warning Uno gave them about being each other's weaknesses. It remains in their hearts not as a warning of their relationship falling to ruin, but as a promise to never reach that point. Uno grew to show his support for their relationship; even the smallest acts of love among a group brought together for their inhuman strength must have been a reminder of better days for everyone, one that Uno liked encouraging.

"There's been conversations at most," Siete says, finally. "It would be a _small_ event. Without too many people."

"But you've _thought_ about it!" Funf cheers, and the people around them are starting to give them odd looks. "Does anyone else know?"

"No, because we haven't decided _i_ _f_ we want to do it, let alone when."

"Lame." Funf turns her nose up. "When we get back home, we're figuring it out, because you guys need to get it together! And get married."

"I'm glad you're excited for us," Siete laughs, "but it'll take time. You can get excited when we decide on it."

"I _guess,"_ Funf whines. "But you better hurry it up! Time is ticking! You're not getting any younger!"

"Why just me?" he says, nudging her. "Six gets older every year, too."

She shrugs. "You're easier to make fun of."

Uno laughs heartily, not bothering to hide the extent of his amusement. Siete clutches his heart. "Et tu, Uno?"

The conversation shifts after, but Funf _does_ make a point. Even if they've talked about marriage on occasion, it's time to put in stricter words how serious both of them are. He even tells Funf as such, but she continues to send him pointed looks that follow all the way to dinner that night. She coughs every time Siete even so much as _looks_ at Six, to the point where even Six starts getting suspicious.

"Is there a problem?" he asks, while scrutinizing Siete's face.

"He's getting wrinkles," Funf sighs with finality, before putting a spoonful of food in her mouth. She resigns from glaring, her signal that she's had enough of trying to telepathically transmit her ideas about a wedding to Six.

Six's inspection doesn't cease. In fact, he leans in closer, spurred on by Funf's resignation. "I'll tell you later," Siete mumbles with food in his mouth, unnerved from the unrelenting attention.

His comment makes Six _more_ insistent, to Funf's amusement. Uno, in a shocking turn of betrayal, begins to play along, which urges the others at the table to join in with staring at him.

The others may even have their suspicions at this point. Funf is quick to share ideas when she gets them, and judging by the smile on Esser and Song's faces, they must be regular victims of her many conspiracy theories.

Some of the Eternals stay in the kitchen to stare at Siete as he washes up the dishes. On the way back to their room, Six grabs at his face, his arms, and his shoulders with a surgical precision, inspecting for anomalies. He gets a reprieve from the inspection when he showers, but when Six comes back into their room, the staring resumes.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed and towelling off his hair, Siete says, "You can stop staring. There's nothing wrong with me." he says.

Six snorts. Okay, he deserved that one. "Then why all the attention?"

"I always turn heads." When Six stares at him, he laughs, before looking up at Six, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "...Funf asked when we're getting married, and she has it in her head we should do it as soon as possible."

Six's eyebrows raise, and then he frowns in contemplation again. It persists as he changes into sleep clothes, poking his ears through the hole of his sleep shirt with the rest of his downy hair following. Unable to stop himself, Siete walks over and kisses the top of his head.

He makes a noise, and then says, "How did she know?"

"I don't think she did. She just asked. But it had me thinking, we _should_ sit down right now and make this whole marriage hubbub clear."

Six turns around with a difficult look on his face. It's a sudden discussion about a decision that shake the routine of their lives, but after giving it a moment of consideration, he nods."That would be best."

"If you've got cold feet," he jokes, "speak now or forever hold your peace." He brings his hand down to close around Six's wrist and tugs him towards the bed, yawning.

"...Is this what you want?" Six asks. His hesitation follows, a shadow over his motions as he moves to sit cross-legged on the bed. Siete wants to kiss it away, but he settles for laying his head down on his lap, closing his eyes and letting Six play with his hair to keep his hands busy.

"Why wouldn't it be?" he asks. "Is the answer gonna be something like, 'you will regret this'?" Six flicks his forehead at the attempt to copy his voice, and Siete laughs. "Six, there's nothing you can do to convince me that I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you. I have not a single regret."

He watches doubt swirl in Six's eyes, the fingers carding through his hair stilling. "Our relationship has been a source of contentment. But... there are days where I question whether this is what I truly deserve," he admits. These are not new words, but they have a different heaviness to them within the context of their conversation.

"'Content'?" He can't help but tease. "Man, should've told me earlier. I could've done better. Knocked you off your feet a few more times."

"Quiet." Six flicks his forehead again, a familiar gesture of not-irritation. "However, to create an entire celebration surrounding these circumstances in which I am directly involved seems disingenuous."

"'These circumstances' being?"

Six is talking in circles again, the telltale sign he's avoiding saying something that'll put him at the most open to attack from his doubts. "...Experiencing unfettered happiness. To be with someone who wishes, in return, for the same," he murmurs, light colour dusting his cheeks.

"Six, have you ever heard wedding vows?" Six shakes his head in response. "No spoilers, but it's got some real gems like 'through sickness and in health' and 'till death do us part'. You know I don't need any special events to tell you that," Siete says, voice softening as he brushes Six's fringe out of his eyes. They're both overdue for a haircut. "If being official is the difficulty here, we can call it off."

A difficult look passes over Six's face, making his anxieties obvious. "What do _you_ want?"

"You know the answer to that," Siete smiles, hand moving to brush against his cheek. "But I need an answer from you too, Six. The ceremony is still kind of a hassle, and like I said, it's not necessary—"

"No. I want to," Six says, frowning, and for all of his hesitation, the stubborn set of his jaw says otherwise. It makes Siete raise his eyebrows, his mouth twitching into a smile.

"So that's a yes?" Six opens his mouth again, and Siete hurries to say, "It's a yes or no question, love, please no more speeches, I'm falling asleep."

Six makes the same, uncertain expression every time he says _love_. He also knows that Six doesn't say things until he means them. For all his clumsiness, he takes care with his words when it counts. There might be a reason he wants a ceremony after all, Siete thinks with a smile. "...Yes," Six finally agrees, before closing his eyes. "But—"

"No buts."

"This is important," Six mutters, eyes unfocused towards the wall opposite from him. Siete holds his hand. "If ever my sins were to rise from their graves and demand their revenge, it would be the time of the ceremony. I cannot control my past."

"Of course you can't."

"I mean in that I cannot control if it makes a reappearance. If the shadows cannot be chased away by even a light this bright, I urge you to save yourself instead of me."

Siete sits up to push him until they're lying down, his face framed between Siete's hands on either side, and then he leans down to kiss him. "Are you trying to distract me?" Six mumbles between kisses, only half-heartedly trying to stop him.

"Is it working?"

"No."

"Then I'll have you know," Siete says against his lips, "that I have no intention of watching you succumb to the darkness. Especially when your own light has the power to chase that away."

Six's eyebrows furrow before his eyes blink open, back upwards at him. "You have faith," he says, not without apprehension.

"I _know_ faith."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Love doesn't have to," Siete laughs, kissing the space between where his eyebrows furrow.

* * *

Aside from Funf's suspicions, no one else has the idea in their mind that they're getting married—at least, Six can only hope.

With the proper conversations falling into place, it's a matter of accepting that they're both willing to have a wedding, regardless of whether it happens or not. Despite deciding on a nondescript ceremony, Siete made it clear he wanted to propose properly, and Six would be lying if he said he didn't want to do the same. He couldn't let Siete do all the hard work in the process.

The first step of planning the proposal, however, is this:

Before the Eternals, Six had been alone for most of his life, abandoned by the only people who showed him kindness and everyone else destroyed by his hands. He'd hated the idea of being considered for the Eternals, but Siete's belief that he could be greater than what legend and birth dictated should be his path had spread among to the rest of the crewmembers until he could gladly call them his allies.

He may no longer be alone, but Siete has never been. He's always had people by his side, whether it be the memory of them or the people he's chosen for himself. There are those among the Eternals that have had more history with Siete than Six does.

It no longer causes a swirl of nervousness in him that he hasn't known Siete as long as Uno or the twins, but old anxieties nag at him again when he reaches the door to the twins' room. Six has been dating Siete for three and a half years, known him for another four, but the twins have known Siete for more than double that. His hand stutters as he curls it into a fist to knock against Esser's door.

Even if Quatre's no longer filled with hatred towards his power, Six has still found it easier to talk to Esser. The probability is high that Quatre will be relaxing in her room or vice versa, but he's willing to take the chance. He raps twice before he has the chance to regret it. Esser greets him, and he doesn't miss how she tries to bite back a smile, her eyes brightening. Quatre doesn't even look up from his bed where he's lying down and reading a book. "Look what the cat dragged in," he drawls, completely uninterested.

"I have a matter to discuss," Six says, and Esser opens the door for him to step in further. She offers a chair from her desk, but he shakes his head. He wishes he wore his entire mask instead of half, feeling the heat rise to his face. "...Siete and I are planning to get married."

Quatre scoffs. His sharp eyes lift over the page to scour his expression, and after a second, he spits, "Then look happy about it."

Six's eyebrows furrow, and his mouth opens to object, but any retort escapes him when he sees Esser hides her smile behind her hand.

Quatre has proven that he's not nearly as abrasive as he tries to be. It's become funnier over the years when everyone knows each other so well that they've witnessed his compassion or have been on the receiving end of it. There are few people he cares about more than his own sister and the kids of Stardust Town, but even though he denies it, everyone knows that Siete isn't far below them in priority.

Six holds his head up higher. "If what I have with Siete is happiness, then I am happy. I'm here to ask for your blessing."

Quatre snorts, feigning disinterest. "We're both younger than you."

"That doesn't matter. Both of you are as family to him, and should I need to prove myself, I will. Nothing would bring me greater joy than to bring that same joy to Siete, no matter the cost."

As a direct contrast to Quatre's attitude, Esser smiles sheepishly. "...He may have let his own plans slip. And despite our best attempts, Funf may have shared her suspicions with everyone." He clenches his fist to resist the urge to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. "He's looking forward to his life with you, if it's of any consolation."

"Did he," Six mumbles, and he feels his face grow even redder.

Groaning, Quatre lays his book on top of his face, head towards the ceiling. "Fuck, you're _both_ saps. Do what you want, but for the love of god don't get all emotional on me in our room."

"For what it's worth," Esser says, laughter in her voice, "You've made him very happy the past few years."

"Doesn't shut up about it," Quatre grumbles under the book.

"For that alone, you have our blessing."

Sighing and pulling himself into a sitting position, making sure to let Six know with every single action that he's annoyed, Quatre puts his chin in his hands and glares at him. "You're a real mean son of a bitch, Six, but at least it's going to the right place. To an equal idiot of a man."

He feels his mouth twitch into a challenging grin, and he holds his head higher to look at the twins. "I promise."

"Lord fucking help me if you start saying your vows now," Quatre says with a disgusted look on his face. "Save that for when you two get married."

The definitive _when_ is the closest to a worded blessing Six will get from him, and the single word feels like electricity charging through his veins.

* * *

At no point in his miserable existence did Six think he'd want to find someone to love—someone he'd love so much that it felt like his still-beating heart was being ripped from his chest with every touch, every word. But with Siete, he feels sated at the same time he wants more, the desire turning him inside out so thoroughly that it made him want to give back to Siete everything he'd ever made Six feel and double that.

The desire for the ring was born out of selfishness, Six wanting to feel the weight of their love in each other's hands and remember that it was tangible. But the more Siete had discussed it with him, the more the ceremony had become as important as the tangible reminder.

He'd never said those three words, the most important ones at the cornerstone of every relationship. He'd wanted a perfect opportunity to say them. Nothing less would suffice. He knows that for Siete, the power of those words comes in that he can say them often and mean it every single time. For Six, he needs to be sure that everything is aligned before he says them for the first time.

It feels like the seasons pass faster when both of them are waiting.

They collect enough materials for the rings and forge them separately. Six collected the small diamonds from a mission on Valtz Duchy, and at Silva's uncle's forge, he watches the gold nuggets turn into a tangible reminder of their relationship. When Dan finishes it a week later, complete with a crafted wooden box by Silva's sisters, the weight it carries in his hands is unlike anything he'd felt before, all of their history compacted into a small, golden band.

He carries it with him everywhere in the pocket of his uniform, waiting for the right moment. Song reassures him that Siete would be happy with anything because it would mean that Six wanted to be with him. It feels like a foreign concept, but he knows that she's right.

With that reassurance, he sets out to prepare the best proposal Siete will ever have in his life—and, if Six didn't mess this up, the only one he'd ever get. Siete's satisfaction with the bare minimum from him makes him even more determined to execute it without fail.

But he hesitates for too long, debating on the execution in every waking moment. Summer turns to autumn turns to winter, the snow covers the ground outside the base once again, and the talk of proposals and wedding and marriage fades into the background of routine. Six keeps the ring in his pocket, worried that Siete's regretting the idea. Their relationship hasn't deteriorated with the time, but with this much silence about the topic his anxieties have room for to rise to the surface again.

He puts the ring away, hiding it underneath the clothes in his drawers, and tries not to panic.

One night, the Eternals are giving them their space on another date at home. Cooking together tonight reminds Six of the plans he'd failed to follow through with instead of bringing him reprieve. They're eating dinner later than usual in exchange for having the kitchen and dining area to themselves. From upstairs comes the faint sound of Nio practicing her harp, while the twins play boardgames with Uno and Funf, and underneath it all, in the kitchen in front of him, is the soft chatter of Siete's voice as they cook together.

"And then the—oh, can you pass the salt?" Siete says, distracted, and his tone of voice makes Six hesitate for a second. He turns around but keeps his ears turned towards him, even though he knows there's nothing to be suspicious of. He trusts the man more and more with every passing day, and it's shaping up to be a bad week for him after all if paranoia adding to the mix of his anxieties.

He frowns as he turns back around, but whatever concerns he's about to voice about his mental state collapses. His grip tightens around the shaker, mouth slack. In front of him, Siete has one knee on the ground, looking up at him even as he's fumbling to find something in his pocket, and he's smiling so hard that it's starting to hurt Six's cheeks from looking.

Eyes half-crescents, looking like the moon was hung in them, Siete says his name in a voice so tender he thinks his heart might stop.

"No," Six says immediately, slamming the salt down on the counter with too much force.

Siete looks truly, wholly gutted for about half a moment before it shatters with his laughter. "I didn't even say anything," he wheezes, hands tightening around the box in his hand as he collapses on the ground with full-body laughs.

"I—" Why the hell did he say no? _A_ _gain?_

"This isn't really a surprise since we got the materials together and we've been talking about this for months. But Six," Siete says, and he knows what words will come next, even though he's never heard of someone trying not to laugh in the middle of a proposal. "Will you marry me?"

"No," Six says again, voice tapering off, and he covers his face. His heart is beating, his palms are sweating, and his breathing is growing shallow. This was the rejection he was worried about, and it's coming from his own mind, from the inside out rather than from Siete himself.

Siete laughs again—not to make fun of him, not even in bewilderment, but with the laugh that Six _knows_ is the one that comes out when he's overjoyed. "Do you want another week to think about it, like when I first asked you out?"

"Quiet," Six says, throat tightening. Thoughts of him being undeserving of Siete's kindness are screaming at him at the same frequency his heart is beating, and in the din of it all, he follows his heart. He kneels on the floor in front of Siete and holds his face in his hands and kisses him, because he can't trust his words but can trust the lips that have to form them. Without missing a beat, Siete's arms wrap around him, and Six feels the box press against his back. He deepens the kiss, pushes him forward until he knocks Siete's head against the knob of one of the drawers.

Siete makes a pained noise that morphs into laughter. It's not until that moment that Six feels how tense Siete was, stress draining from his muscles with his amusement. "So is that a yes?"

"I thought you'd forgotten," Six says against his lips. "I didn't want to say anything in case you'd changed your mind."

"Quatre and Esser told me you asked them for their blessing _before_ we made the rings," Siete murmurs. "I knew in that moment, no matter what, I was at _least_ going to give you a ring. Now, stop avoiding yes or no questions," punctuating a kiss with chuckles.

"Then yes," Six grumbles. "Stop making things so difficult."

"I wanna make sure. You gave me a heart attack there, you know."

Siete kisses him again, and they spend a few more moments in each other's arms. The thought runs through his mind that there's nowhere he'd rather be than right here, and it ignites something in him, even more of his apprehension burning to ashes. Distractedly, Six asks against his lips, "Won't the food burn?"

"Ye of little faith," Siete jokes, and Six kisses him again to prove the faith he's had in him, all this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel wrong just writing any character running out like that without paying the bill. everyone please still be nice to your servers even when you're about to live out your chase scene fantasy of running out of a restaurant, hopping into a cab, and saying _follow that car_


	4. if you believed in me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up!  
> 
> 
> edit [july 7, 2019]: thank you so much @astrallevin for **[this lovely fanart of the wedding](https://twitter.com/astrallevin/status/1145900198729793536)**!!! ;___;  
> edit [march 14, 2020]: jesus. okay. where do i start. i absolutely 100% asked her to do this for me and still i feel my life is over. **[ame (@reaiame) drew the wedding](https://twitter.com/reaiame/status/1238756433211973638)** where do i START. by CRYING A WHOLE LOT I GUESS. I'M BEGGING YOU TO LOOK

Neither he nor Siete plan a special announcement for their engagement, which means Siete shows up to breakfast the next morning long before Six does. Siete relays to him the regular entrance he'd made with the ring on his finger, marks on his collarbones, giving special attention to describe the cheeky grin he couldn't stifle. He describes everyone's congratulations, screams of excitement, and pats on the back so Six can mentally prepare.

Going from isolation for so many years to living with nine other, equally eccentric people demanded that Six learn how to read their intentions, to the point that anyone outside of the Eternals ends up being easier to understand in comparison. Even so, their enthusiasm sounds overbearing, especially since he didn't get a whole lot of sleep the night before (and how Siete manages it when they slept the same amount, he doesn't know). When he finally walks downstairs and gets the same treatment, he turns around and walks back upstairs. He lets Siete handle the questions downstairs as he goes to sleep again.

* * *

Surprisingly—and Six thinks that with as much sarcasm as he can muster—none of the Eternals have personal experience with weddings. They've seen them in passing, have theories on how to ensure one's success, or imagined one for themselves. But none of them have been invited to a wedding, or if they have out of courtesy for their services, they've declined. Despite everyone's inexperience only compounding onto the uncertainty, there's one constant among them, whether it be cheers of enthusiasm or a simple nod of acknowledgement: the Eternals have a wedding to look forward to.

When the Eternals say they'll set up a reception hall while they exchange vows alone, they accept. When Ladiva insists on staffing the bar and catering, the other friends they've invited from the Grandcypher agreeing with her, they accept. The friends they've met on their travels are happy to offer their specific services, and it's disorienting to have so many people invested in the finer details of their wedding.

While Siete is amused, Six makes it clear that the ceremony is for their own sake. While their friends respect that, they also suggest that they, separate of anything the two of them are doing, have a celebration coincidentally in the same time and place their vows are meant to take place. The suggestion is so sincere that Six only raises a half-hearted objection, and he wonders when he grew so soft to company.

They plan the wedding for the cusp of spring, which sets the event a few months from now; any longer and the anticipation would make them crumble, needing nothing more than a space with each other and their friends. After negotiation, the garden from their first date is willing to give them the space for the day, as well as the small building beside it for their reception. The garden is unaware of the personal importance of the location, but the Eternals' name is familiar to them, and they make the agreement to protect their identities.

Their wedding may be more nondescript than others, but it's still a _wedding._ Despite being the opportunity that Six wanted, the officiality of the ceremony makes gives him more doubts the more concrete it becomes. He grows more averse to the planning stages, needing to step away from discussion to calm his nerves. Siete finds a day that works for them to meet with Korwa for designing and fitting, and Six agonizes about the meeting every waking moment.

The night before it's set to take place, he sneaks out of bed while Siete is sleeping. He's been unable to sleep for hours, staring at the ceiling drowning with possibilities of things going wrong. Siete makes a noise in his sleep, rolling over into the warm spot he leaves behind, but he doesn't wake, and Six pulls the covers over him guiltily. He doesn't know where he's going, but he knows he can't stay.

He doesn't bother to change into his uniform, but because their lives are never truly safe, he brings with him his small daggers and his claws, hanging them from his waist with one of Siete's belts hanging over a chair.

As he steps into the backyard, hoping to sit among the flowers in the silence of the night, he hears the sound of a blade slicing through the air. He's not prepared for company, but he doesn't have a choice when the holder of the blade has already noticed him.

Without ceasing his precise motions, Okto calls out for him. "Six. You wish to spar?"

He flinches, thinking about turning around to return inside. His mouth forms _no_ on instinct, but this routine he does with Siete is present among the other Eternals, and he finds himself providing the same grounding motions for them. He approaches. "It's not within my plans, but I have no objections."

Okto's voice has the quality of shattering the air and repairing it in the same breath. "Your plans have already been determined by your spirit. Your mind only need follow."

"Nothing quite so dramatic," Six rebuts as he readies his claws, walking towards him in the outdoor training area. Okto has moved all of the dummies and the obstacles out of the way, leaving nothing but himself, the blade, and the night.

This is the purest duel they can provide for each other, and the corner of Six's mouth twitches upwards.

Okto's face is still hard to read, but he bows, and Six only gets a glimmer of the amusement in his eyes. "Let us begin. It has been a while since someone has approached me this late at night."

"I wouldn't say I had a choice in this," Six says as he does the same.

"You have more choice than you can begin to conceive. But you have already chosen."

"I thought the cryptic and revealing messages about my character came after battle," he mutters, parrying the first strike as Okto surges forward into his space.

Sparring with Okto, more than the rest of the Eternals, forces Six in the present. Anything else would risk death. He drives the anxieties out of his mind to concentrate on dodging and weaving attacks, seeking openings.

For Six, his movements are one of the easiest to understand, yet one of the most difficult to combat. Because of his personal philosophy, Okto in battle is no different from how he carries himself outside of it. Within him is an enduring fortitude imbued throughout every cell of his body, every iota of thought, and every movement of his blade. If Six isn't prepared to fight him, that relentless, driving energy slams into him like waves, dragging him underwater.

Being aware of Okto's fighting style is only enough to put them on even ground.

The edge of Okto's katana grazes the edge of his mask and knocks it into the dirt beside him. His left eye already accustomed to the dark, he wastes no time in dodging the attack and using his smaller size to dart between openings. He turns his claws outwards and slams the palm of his hand underneath his rib cage, against the space between leather armour and his belt where there is only cloth.

In true battle, there would still be time and energy to launch a counterattack. But in a fair duel, both of them recognize that as a definitive blow, and they pause. "You allowed me to land that hit," Six says while regaining his breath.

"You underestimate yourself." Okto takes four steps backwards. Six does the same, and they face each other again. "Even I am susceptible to weakness at times. There is no end to improvement of my skills."

Six tilts his head. His words still seem suspect. "Were you hoping to disarm me by removing my mask?"

Okto smiles, gripping his blades tighter. "It has not been of detriment to you for many years. There is no combative purpose to do so. At least, that is the thought among the Eternals."

"Then this is part of the lecture," he mumbles, but he accepts it as it is. He rolls his shoulders and holds up his claws. "Do you attempt to speak in nothing but sage wisdom?"

"You are the one that creates meaning of my words."

"So yes," Six says, and Okto's knowing laughter resounds through the night air again.

"Then, what meaning have you drawn of that which has brought you from slumber to seek space?"

The deliberate wording makes him close his eyes, hiding away from his own smile from how forward the question is compared to the rest of Okto's words that night. Trusting that Okto's given him this space to think, he reflects on the formality of the wedding, the pressure that made him leave Siete's side that night.

Okto's words about choice echo in his mind. He may have been given the chance to cancel the ceremony, but against every reason his mind has to protest, he knew he'd never withdraw from the opportunity. He knows, intimately, the power of ritual and keeping spaces separate. He wants to do this, and he wants it to be done right.

He wants to treasure those who accept him, and Siete's gone above and beyond acceptance. He wouldn't let this opportunity go for the world, no matter what stew of anxieties have arisen within him, because he knows Siete would do the same for him.

"You've said so yourself. I have my path," Six says, and Okto nods, smile knowing, "and I intend on following it."

* * *

Everyone's attempt to make their wedding as low-stress as possible is valiant, but fails by virtue of being a wedding.

It's not too warm for the outfits that Korwa designed them, and she'd done so with fervour, not allowing them to see each other's until the day of. When he'd tried the finished ensemble on in Korwa's workshop and looked at himself in the mirror, he nearly didn't recognize himself, but Korwa's continuous fussing over his hair had reminded him of his place in time.

The days pass in a haze after that moment until the day arrives, sooner rather than later by design. The weather for their wedding is shaping up to be ideal, and the sun chasies away any lurking remnant of winter chill.

The excitement among the Eternals suffocates them when they share a living space, and while the living reminder of their good fortune brings a happiness that cannot be replicated, it compounds onto the stress and makes it difficult to escape. That morning, the Eternals leave the two of them at the base to meet with Siero and the rest of their friends they've invited from the Grandcypher.

Rarely are they alone there, and it feels odd to hear it so quiet when everyone would be eating or running errands. It feels like Christmas Eve, when everyone's gone to sleep and is waiting for the next day.

"So. Marriage," Siete says while rifling through the fridge for a light breakfast to make. Six puts down the piece of toast he's been nibbling at and lays his head on the table.

"I don't know if I'll be able to keep this down," he groans.

"It's one piece of toast, love, you have to eat _something._ " Siete laughs in understanding.

The high stress situation pushes both of them to their extremes. During the journey to the venue, Siete talks about everything and anything, keeping constant physical contact. Six becomes nonverbal, eyes closed and counting his breaths in and out.

They arrive to a half-decorated hall and snacks already making their rounds with the early guests. Six breaks away from Siete the second he sees Korwa, asking in a low, desperate voice where his room is. She looks over her shoulder to wink at Siete as she escorts him.

He takes a deep breath. Underneath the minor commotion that rises when everyone sees Six beside Korwa, Nio slinks in from around the corner. "You sound like a nightmare," she says, voice carrying like a wind chime on a laughing breeze. "And yet, the two of you sound like the same nightmare."

"Nio, my dear. How are things going? How's the decoration?"

"Lennah sent over an abundance of flowers and regrets she could not attend. She hasn't just sent bouquets, she's sent an entire garden all on her own. This hall may as well be indistinguishable from the garden next door where you two are exchanging vows."

Exchanging vows. Any reply he might have had to her disappears completely, and his mind is blank, washed out with the sound of his quickening heartbeat.

Nio must notice, because she can't hide her amusement when she says, "Again, you two are the same nightmare. Even when apart, both of you are harmonizing well with each other, making sense out of the cacophony. I have no doubts that whatever you two have, it's working well." There's a crash in the distance, and then she sighs, the familiar chide of Sarasa's name echoing from everyone's lips. "However, there are other nightmares that must be attended to. Worry about your part. We'll do our best here."

* * *

Six hasn't seen Siete's final outfit, and now, he wonders if he'll even make it that far. He turns in front of the mirror and stares at his exposed back covered by the heavy, embroidered cape around his shoulders. Up his right arm, ending at his shoulder, are swirls of gold that he _knows_ matches with Siete's even without having seen him.

From what he can scrounge from the corners of his memory, Karm clothing in most occasions was traditionally dark. Red was an auspicious colour, although he was never old enough to see more than a few celebrations, crimson decorations and scarlet outfits like a shower of blessed blood.

He said as such to Korwa, and she avoided it. She asked if there was anything else from Karm he'd like her to consider, and there was nothing.

(And then, upon consideration, he told about the lacrimosa, the flower that bloomed only in complete darkness. A spark of joy lit her eyes, and she turned to her papers and showed him a sliver of her drafts for Siete with the flower already sketched.)

She puts both of them in mostly white, embellished with royal purples and golds. Six is unused to seeing himself in bright colours so unapologetically, feeling exposed as he looks at himself in the mirror. He keeps his vows in his back pocket and the small box with the ring presses dents in his hands as he turns it over and over.

There's a knock on the door, and his voice is strained as he asks, "Who is it?"

"Esser."

"Come in." He tries not to cough as he says it. When he looks over to the door opening, Esser walks in, wearing her ash-coloured dress and hair piled up in a neat updo. Her smile is exasperated, and he knows it's because she's already seen the state that Siete's in.

"It's lively here," she says, laughter making her voice light. "Siete is fretting in a way I haven't seen before."

The queasiness that wracks him at the sound of Siete's name sends him staggering to the chair in the corner of the room with his head in his hands. Esser comes up to him, calm as ever. "I might be sick," he mutters, and she eases him into sitting down.

"I'm experiencing déjà vu." She giggles, and Six's head shoots up so fast it only exacerbates the urge to throw up.

"Does he have regrets about the arrangement?" he asks, wincing at how small his voice sounds. It should be criminal to feel this way, he decides. It should be criminal for love to debilitate and revive him in the same breath.

"Siete? Regret _this?"_ She rebuts so incredulously that Six regains a sliver of confidence. "I was led to believe you had trust in him."

"I do. Which is why he may have taken this final chance of his and snapped out of his delusional mind and left."

"Don't let my brother hear you." She can't keep the amusement out of her voice, and Six turns his pleading eyes up at her. "Siete was worried that you might cancel it as well, and Quatre didn't hesitate to tear him into pieces about how hopeless both of you were. My brother may well be tipsy before the reception to recover from second-hand stress if Ladiva and Jamil are finished setting up the open bar."

"He's that affected?"

He doesn't specify Siete, but Esser picks it up. "You two should see yourselves. You're both worrying about nothing, although I hear this is standard fare for weddings. This is a good sign of things to come."

"This nausea I feel generally does not mean _good things to come_ ," Six croaks out.

"You're worried about things going wrong because you want them to go right," Esser says. It's laughable how obviously rational it sounds, but there's a truth in it that Six can't deny.

There hasn't been anything he'd wanted more to go right than this moment, and his hands shake as he runs them through his hair one last time. It's Siete's happiness more than his that he wants to secure, and he wants to make sure Siete knows it so he would never hold doubts about it again.

"...Thank you," he says, after he realizes he's been silent too long, having dropped the conversation.

Esser fixes his hair into place, sighing at the strands he's mussed. "I'm inclined to agree with Quatre. You two have nothing to worry about if both of you are like this."

"Siete..." he trails off, wondering whether Siete could ever look as much of a mess as he does in that moment.

The Siete he's used to is an expert at keeping his composure, and there are few times in public that Six can count where Siete hasn't appeared confident or at ease with the situation. Six feels giddy with the thought that this situation is one of them.

Giddy, or sick.

Or both.

He coughs, and it sounds like he'll cough something up. Esser rushes to find him a glass of water.

* * *

Quatre storms out of Siete's makeshift dressing room, and he rubs at the back of his neck, laughing nervously. He can't stop laughing. It's not normally a nervous tic, but this isn't a normal occasion, and everything is _hilarious._ Quatre is yelling at him that he's an idiot, and he's laughing because it's true. Of course he's an idiot. Things are going to go _fine._

And yet he fusses about his hair, the fit of his clothes, the shine of his shoes. Quatre exclaimed, before leaving him to steep in his anxiety, _You care about the way you look? News to me,_ and at Siete's exasperated laughter, he threw his hands up and muttered under his breath about getting a drink.

No sooner after he stormed out does his oldest friend and greatest confidant arrive. "Uno," Siete says, raising his arms out to the side. He laughs, again. Fuck.

Uno laughs in response. "Siete. You look a right mess." Immediately, Siete turns around to look at the mirror again, checking for any threads out of place, cursing his hair again. The design on his left sleeve feels asymmetrical compared to the rest of the outfit, and he finds himself thinking irrationally that he'd been the one to make a mess of it. Uno walks up next to him and pats him on the leg. "I meant emotionally. You look very ready for a wedding."

Groaning, Siete slumps over. "Don't give me a heart attack."

"You are well on your way to doing that yourself. I will say, I never thought I'd see the day where you'd be back in any sort of traditional dress. You never took well to it. The one time your entire family did, none of you took well to it." Uno walks around him, contemplating his garb.

He laughs. "All in the blood, isn't it? The clothes were uncomfortable. But it was more than that for me." He fiddles with the white silk gloves, fitting like a second skin over his hands, as he remembers the honours bestowed unto his family for their services in arming the defences. "For me, the formality in front of the new king was an expectation I didn't meet."

Circling around him once more, Uno stands next to him, smiling behind his mustache. "Do you feel the same undeserving feeling now?"

Siete stares at the ash-grey of Uno's suit, the Eternals' insignia on his shoulder. He stares at his own all-white ensemble, at the royal violet lapels with constellations, the light purple vest, the gold trim. His collar is high and chokes him, but that might be the nervousness talking.

"My ego's not so large that I think I'm perfect for him. But it's the same as back then, where I wanted to prove that I could meet those expectations one day." As an afterthought, he adds, "Korwa's already done a better job, though. The clothes my dad gave us for the ceremony were super stiff."

"Ah, I forgot. _None_ of you ever took well to formal dress." Uno grins at the memory. "But Korwa's done an amazing job. For both of you. And the thought put into your ensembles are well-deserved, I may add."

At the reminder that he still hasn't seen Six, he takes deep breaths, in and out, and Uno pats his leg. Six was one of the last people they recruited for the Eternals, after he and Uno had pored over their choices for a melee fighter in the skies. There were others that were easier to contact or didn't have such a horrific reputation attached to them, but Six's story had Siete hellbent on finding him if only to have a conversation. Uno had been wary at first— _what would the Eternals be if its leader was killed before_ _gathering everyone together?_ —but he also had many years of experience regarding Siete's brand of stubbornness.

In the end, he'd allowed Siete to seek the Karm Erune of legend out first. Uno had a knack of predicting people's potentials better than Siete could ever hope for himself.

"He deserves the best," Siete whispers, lost in the memories of their first meetings and nearly forgetting to answer Uno. "All his talk about darkness and he's been nothing but a light in my life. I love him," he says, because he doesn't know what else to say at the moment. "And all I want from today is for him to know it."

"I'm sure he will," Uno reassures. "If you two continue how you have been for the past few years, there should be no room for doubt."

Even with the reassuring words, Siete takes too long to prepare. As he and Uno reminisce on familiar memories to soothe his nerves, he hears the door across the hall from him open and their friends start cheering, followed by Six's unmistakable voice, strained. "I'm going now."

Uno puts a hand on his shoulder before he even realizes how panicked he must look. "He's heading off to the garden. Stay calm. There would be more of an uproar if he was leaving you at the altar."

He's right, Siete reminds himself, and he takes a deep breath. He hears Song asking why he wasn't waiting like the original plan, and Six confirms he was too restless to sit still in his room, that he'd meet Siete there.

He inspects himself in the mirror again and double-checks that he has his vows and the ring, but his attempt to stall to calm his nerves falls apart when a knock on his door startles him.

"You best get going," Uno laughs, pushing him towards the door. "You're more than prepared."

He opens the door to flower petals thrown in his face and Funf cheering, "Go get 'im!"

"Indeed," Okto says from behind her. "Do not let today be the day your pursuit of each other is reduced to mere frivolity by your delay. Let the vitality of love enrich your lives!"

"...Thanks. I think," Siete mumbles. It's difficult to parse Okto's statements on a good day, let alone on a day when he's so lightheaded he might pass out. Okto chuckles but says nothing else, so he salutes them and walks out towards the garden.

He leaves their friends to continue decorating the small hall they've rented out, their chipper already talking about starting the party without them. He steps outside, takes a deep breath, and lets the door close behind him. The only noise outside comes from his dress shoes clicking staccato against the cobblestone in time with his heart.

The double doors of the garden are heavier than he remembers. He takes another deep breath when they close behind him, creating a space for the two of them free of the outside world. The dark red carpet laid out for them ends at a marble fountain sitting in the middle of the space, and the coloured glass of the indoor garden paints the already colourful foliage. Siete walks up to one of the many bouquets that border the carpet and holds the label that reads _with_ _much_ _love, from Lennah_ between his shaking fingers.

Between the leaves, he catches the sight of Six in all white, and the breath is knocked out of his lungs. The light of the setting sun makes him glow, like the rays of fading sunlight all have their own well-wishes to send to the two of them on their wedding day. His heart stops, but his feet don't, leading him like habit right to Six's side. This is where he always finds himself, where he knows he belongs, no matter what befalls them.

Whether Six has been waiting here all this time or if he only made it this far, unable to stomach the thought of waiting at the front of their makeshift altar alone, Siete doesn't know. What he does know is that when he reaches out for Six's hand and squeezes it, Six will squeeze back, a reaction that overrides the paralysis of their worries. He looks down at their linked hands, following the gold trailing down his left arm and up Six's right, until he's breathless staring at Six's profile once again. 

For a moment, they stand there, letting the sound of the water trickling in the fountain turn into white noise. Siete nudges his elbow into Six's side and says, gesturing to the topiary they've been standing in front of, "You think we should've gotten this penguin to play for Nio's band?"

"I'm positive I've seen a fighter in these skies battling in a penguin suit. You may be invoking her wrath." Six groans, and the sound is familiar, like everything else here is.

Siete squeezes his hand and turns to him. "Then how 'bout I sing the Wedding March as we walk down the aisle?"

"I was under the impression we were going to leave this room married, not deaf."

"You can't not make fun of me on our wedding day! That's illegal."

"Of course I will. It's well-deserved."

"Babe," he laughs and kisses him on the forehead.

"Significant other."

"Can you upgrade to calling me 'husband' after this?"

"I'll put it to consideration," Six chuckles, tugging on his hand to lead them forward. He feels slight resistance from Siete, who laughs and puts his face in his free hand.

"My legs didn't work there for a second." His voice feels as weak as his knees.

"Should I carry you?" Six cajoles.

"If that's what it takes, you have my permission." With every word, Siete's steps grow more and more sure, until they're in front of the small fountain.

"I'll remember that." In the late afternoon, the sun casts through the stained glass. Not even a kaleidoscope of colours can take their eyes away from how illuminating the other's smile is.

"Should we get this party started?"

"Odd choice of words," Six says, amused eyes curved into half-moons.

Happiness is a good look on Six, boundless despite his failed attempts to restrain himself. Six is a private person, and Siete doesn't mind that they're not the most open of couples. He is so full of love and affection in ways not everyone is privy to—holding Siete's hand before a battle even when the Eternals are around, a peck when he passes Siete while trudging to their room, allowing himself to sleep with his back against Siete's chest. He puts his heart into everything he does, and that goes doubly so for loving Siete, overflowing them both with an ineffable love they'll be doing their best to put to words.

"So, remember when I first asked you out?" This is how Siete chooses to start his vows, expecting the reaction Six gives him: groaning, tilting his head away, but his smile never faltering.

"Vows are a time of celebrating our relationship, not of reliving humiliation."

"We _are_ celebrating our relationship," he chuckles as he kisses Six on the forehead. "I've always been embarrassing."

"And so, the vows turn into a garden of self-awareness, after a long many years. Tell me more about what you've discovered about yourself."

"I'm trying to get there," Siete jokes, "But listen for a bit—it's a tall order, I know." Six's smile only takes on a more mischievous edge, but he stays quiet. "Remember your reason for rejecting me? You'd told me it was because you felt like it wasn't a possibility for you.

"Rejecting a date's fine, love. But the look you gave me when you responded... I wanted _you_ to allow yourself anything that had the slightest chance of bringing you joy, even if it wasn't with me. I wanted you to know you could live a life not free of sin, but despite it. That you belonged in the world, not beneath it nor elevated high above it."

Six swallows; discussing his past has its difficulties, but both of them understand its importance as a thread that wraps around the two of them tighter than it does anyone else Six keeps in his life. Siete presses their foreheads together.

"And yet, you accepted that date like you do everything else; with all your heart, or not at all. There are few times in my life where I'd been more scared than that moment you told me that I wasn't taking you seriously. I hid myself away while pretending I hadn't, and yet you gave me a second chance.

"You have a strength that I envy—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. You broke down my own mask from the inside out, and you stayed there as I relearnt to be myself. You taught me to hold what I love even closer to my heart and to never take anything for granted. You fight to the end for what you care about, and it is a privilege to know that I am one of those things." He takes a moment to look at Six. Tears pricking at the edge of his eyes makes his vision blurry, and pauses to untangle one of his hands from Six's to try and wipe them away.

When they're standing this close, he can see Six smile at his attempt. Siete gets the feeling he does every time he sees that smile, the feeling that everything—making a fool of himself, risking himself in dangerous territory, cracking a bad joke that makes him the ire of everyone in the room—it's all worth it for the small quirk of his lips, the small sparkle that lights in his eyes every time.

His mouth opens, but words fail to come out. He starts laughing again out of stress. Confused, Six joins his laughter with his own barely vocalized, punctuated breaths. He mutters, "At this pace, this'll take years."

"Hey, that's years spent with you."

Six punches him in the shoulder, leaning his head on the other in exasperation before standing up straight. His smile hasn't faded at all, and it spurs Siete to continue, moving his hands down to hold Six's.

"I have never met a man so full of love to give and receive, and I am forever grateful that it is me you've decided to spend your life with. Your hands that hold mine now have shown me selflessness. Not only of my own life, but of those of our friends, and of so many people in the skies. I have never been happier to hold them than in this moment, and to be held in return.

"I know you were never one for dramatics, but." Siete lifts Six's left hand, who rolls his eyes while smiling in anticipation all the same. "May the stars and the moon be my witness, and may the sun bring forth bloom. I promise to you, with my life in your hands and my sword at your feet," he chuckles, as he kisses the knuckle of Six's little finger, "that in your darkest hours I will remain by your side."

He kisses the knuckle of his ring finger. "That when the sun rises again, I will be there with you to bask in the warmth."

He kisses the knuckle of his middle finger, and Six exhales out of his nose, trying to keep his breathing steady. "That I will always come to your aid, no matter the circumstances."

He continues like that, kissing every one of Six's knuckles. "I promise, Six, that I will do everything in my power to help you keep your happiness. I promise to never hide behind lies and be my whole, true self. I promise to support every one of your endeavours as if they were my own. I promise to believe in your strength, in the integrity of your actions, and the honesty of your conviction."

When he's done, he presses their foreheads together. Siete has the same fire in his eyes as he does when there's a battle ahead, when Six announces there's only one donut left on the table, when they're about to kiss. It's a challenge, but not to Six. It's a challenge to life, to fates and gods, the stars and moon and sun, to try and take away from Siete what he would fight to the death for.

Barely a breath away, Siete whispers, "I love you, and I will for the rest of my life and whatever happens beyond." He kisses Six, a mere brush of their lips, sealing their promise.

For a moment, they stay still, in each other's embrace, existing in the moment. Six is the one that breaks the silence. "I thought we weren't supposed to kiss until after the rings."

"There are no rules." Siete smirks. "I can kiss you whenever I want. That's being married."

Siete hesitates as he breaks the kiss they share, the cue for Six to begin.

Six feels as though if he were to let go of Siete, he might forget everything. And yet, hearing Siete's vows imbue within him a new strength, one he's grown familiar with over their past few years together.

Taking a deep breath, he looks into Siete's eyes, steeling himself to say the vows he's repeated ad nauseam, and then he freezes. The first lines of his vows drain from his mind, and he's left with his mouth open, staring at Siete.

Six used to find the amount of attention that Siete would hold for him even in private moments embarrassing, but he'd grown to accept the attention and then to _crave_ it, giving in return. To place his heart in the hands of someone else had burnt him so many times before in the past, but with Siete his love had only grown brighter and brighter, until it was so all-encompassing that he was no longer afraid of it exploding under its own pressure.

There is nothing here now that can stop the two of them, because Six holds Siete's heart close as well, a warmth he can never let go. But during a moment like this, where it's time to make tangible through words and actions how much they care for each other, Six has failed.

He looks away, throat constricting the words he says next. "I forgot them. The vows."

Siete kisses him reassuringly. "It's okay," he whispers against his lips.

He repeats the words _I forgot them_ where his vows should instead be said, the only words his stuttering lips can form. Siete's hands settle clasped around his lower back, kissing him again and bringing him closer. The warmth spreads to thaw his paralysis.

"It's okay. Breathe. Do you have them on you? I can get them."

He takes another breath, in and out, grounding himself with the touch of their foreheads, Siete's hands against his back. "They're in my back pocket."

"So you want me to wait until after we exchange rings to kiss you, but you're fine with me grabbing your ass _now_ _?"_

" _Siete,_ " he complains, more fond than exasperated, and it relaxes him enough to reach into his back pocket for the well-worn paper with his vows. Siete's hands come down to his ass to squeeze once anyway before putting them around his waist, and although Six's noise of annoyance is out of habit, the action drains some of his worries.

Siete so effortlessly helps him defuse the panic he feels. Even though his hands shake as he unfolds the paper in the space between them, he feels like he's ready here in Siete's arms, with Siete's forehead pressed against his, eyes closed and existing only in that moment to listen.

"For years," he starts, and then he swallows, his throat dry. "For years, I merely existed. I had no definable future, indelibly marked by my past, with no concept of a present. I existed as history and legend, wanting to escape yet believing that I was not only unable to, but unworthy of doing so.

"It was never a secret that I didn't enjoy being part of the Eternals. What right had I to use the very power that had marked me for eternal damnation to save others? But you believed, and like everyone else, you'd given me a new name. I hated at first that you were trying to overwrite my history, but I came to realize that was never your intent.

"The most terrifying part was that with everyone's company and especially yours, I began to believe that I could move forward from my own past. I could become the Six of the Eternals that you'd believed in. That you'd wanted me to believe in.

"Siete, your hope is relentless, while never promising anything unrealistic. Despite appearances, you listen," and he sees Siete grin even wider at the jab, "unafraid to tell me when I am wrong in judgement while never doubting my history. You help me live a life worth living, while never suggesting I abandon what shaped me, living hell it may be."

He reads the next lines to himself in preparation and takes a ragged breath, closing his eyes. "Siete." This is the most important part of the vows, and even though his hands are shaking, he looks up from the paper, right into his eyes. His nervousness melts away, because he couldn't get this part wrong even if he tries. In a hushed tone but with the strongest conviction he's ever felt, he says, "I love you.

"You of all people know how difficult it is for me to tell you this—not because it is untrue, but because those words carry a heavy burden with me. And yet, with you, that burden lightens. The burden is bearable. The burden is no longer a burden. And what remains is the simple truth of the fact that I love you."

Six blinks the moisture away from his vision; Siete closes his eyes and leans against him, his shaky breathing fanning over his face. This close, he can feel the beaming smile.

Mind blank, he gives himself a few moments to breathe before his shaking hands unfold the paper again. He doesn't trust himself to deliver the rest. Having Siete in front of him, so openly affected by his words, leaves his mental reserves dedicated to committing the moment to memory instead.

But there are things that need to be said, and Six notes that his own voice has grown shakier with the impatience to kiss Siete and to put the rings on each other. "There are days where I wake from nightmares and fear I may have awoken into another one where you are not there. But you are always there beside me. In the days where you are not physically, your memory remains.

"Love, I have learnt, is far from a feeling. It is a new life. It is a hope, and it is hard work to achieve, but never has there anything I have wanted to fight for than this. I once hated myself for craving it, because it seemed unsustainable. It hasn't been perfect. Not when you're as much of an idiot as you are," Six can't help but smile. "But if given the chance, I would change nothing—"

As he says those words, the paper shakes in his hands, and then again. Teardrops hit the edge of the page, smudging the beginning of his vows, and Six can't tell which of them have started crying.

Siete turns away, breaking their touch. He opens his mouth to apologize and chokes, covering the noise with his hand. It doesn't hide his ear-to-ear smile, and a silent sob wracks his body.

He removes Siete's hand from in front of his mouth, folding the piece of paper with his vows and putting it away. He'd spent months memorizing these, leaving the bed whenever Siete was fast asleep to practice. His confidence returns as he holds his face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "I promise, Siete, that I will love you until the day death comes to take me—and past that, because it can never take the heart that you have claimed by your own two hands.

"When the day comes where I meet my end, I know I will not be alone. Not in despair, but in the memory of your love for me, and mine for you." He closes the gap between them, and their kiss is imperfect, salted with tears and clumsy when both of them are impatient.

"And you were the one that said we shouldn't be kissing until the end." Siete laughs, tears staining their kisses.

"Although I have improved in regulating my emotions, there are some things I still cannot control," Six says, with a grin and a heart lighter than he's ever felt before.

"My god, I won't make it out of this room, I might die here." Siete kisses are contagious, bubbling out of Six's chest and blooming against Siete's lips.

"We might not make it to the rings at this rate." He kisses Siete again, and then like an afterthought, he says, "Shall we?"

"We shall," Siete says, and he gives Six a peck on the lips before reaching into his pocket. Six does the same.

In the glow of the setting sun, Six puts the ring on Siete's left ring finger. The plain gold band glitters with the fading rays of sunshine, but it glows no less bright than the day the materials were forged. He takes a moment to commit to memory the way it sits on Siete's hand, with all its scars and calluses, and he smiles so wide it begins to hurt his cheeks.

"I love you," Siete mumbles under his breath as he kisses Six again. He takes his left hand, and then Siete says, with a hint of a laugh, "I now declare us husband and husband. You may now, as they say, 'smack that'."

Although Six rolls his eyes, he grabs onto Siete's waist, tipping him backwards. The dramatics of the moment eliciting laughs from both of them, and the kiss they share is so deep that Six's emotions finally overflow and drown him.

They don't know how much time has passed, but when Siete speaks again, the lights of the garden have lit up, the sun has dipped below the horizon, and the sky is only a hint of purple dotted with the first stars of the night. "You know, we _could_ stay here and bang," Siete mutters, smiling. "There's probably a nice bench here, and we're taking long enough. We _do_ have this place booked."

"There are more comfortable places to consummate." Six snorts, and when he leans in for another kiss, he bites at Siete's lip. "We've spent long enough here."

As Siete takes his hand to lead them out of the garden, Six scoops him up off his feet and carries him in his arms, and Siete lets out a hearty laugh as he puts his arms around Six's neck. He reminds Siete, "No complaints. You were the one that talked about being unable to walk."

"Oh, I _hope_ I'll be unable to walk. Six, love, I want you to do a number on me later tonight."

"Keep it in your pants," Six laughs as he opens the door. "We have guests."

* * *

They burst through the hall, Six holding Siete in his arms, both with self-satisfied looks on their faces. If Six was going to commit to carrying him, he might as well do it until they returned to the reception hall, Siete had reasoned. _I wanna see those legs of yours in action. C_ _an't blame me when your ass looks that good in_ _this outfit_ _._

 _You won't even see it when I kick the door down,_ Six said, rolling his eyes, but he'd humoured Siete's request anyway. Siete couldn't remember whether he said or thought the words _I love you_. He says it again, to be sure, and Six laughs, says _I know_ and _I love you too._

Siero, their photographer, promises that the pictures will be quick, but Six's confidence evaporates when he's faced with the hall of all their friends, excited for them and throwing flower petals over their entrance until they stand up on the temporary stage decorated for Nio's band. He puts Siete down to stand on his own and hides his face when Siete hugs him.

He hears the camera shutter click, and he hides his face even further. Siete poses in stupid ways around him, and Siero takes pictures of every single one of them judging by the frequency of the camera shutter noise. After a while, Siete tugs at his wrist, urging Six to look up at him. The smile he has on his face is the one that burns so brightly in its brilliance it would melt him if he looks at it for too long, except this time he lets himself look for as long as he'd like.

"I'd like to take actual pictures with you," Siete mutters under the conversation of the room, and Six takes a deep breath. Not everyone in the room is looking at them, but it's hard to take their eyes away from the main event, even if they've all pretended they'd gathered here for another purpose.

Six poses for exactly one picture before he feels as though he'll collapse from the stress. Even then, Siete is there to hold onto him tight and kiss him on the temple, telling him to hold on for a little while longer. He hears the camera click for that moment as well, but he minds less, knowing that he's in good hands.

Siero waves the rest of the Eternals over for a group picture. It's just as chaos-filled as any attempt to get all ten of them to do anything in sync, but everyone behaves long enough to take pictures that would look respectable hanging up on their walls. Siero wanders off to take pictures of the guests, and Six sits down on the edge of the stage with his feet tapping against the ground.

The place has filled with even more flowers than when they first arrived, each of the guests with one of Lennah's flowers behind their ears. They chatter among themselves, a few of them waving at both Siete and Six, who wave back as Six tries to steady his breathing again.

The hall quiets, and the silence rings in his ears. From beside him, Siete shifts, looking over Six's head towards the entrance of the hall. Six turns his head to follow, and standing at the entrance are two people he doesn't recognize from their guest list—until grins spread across their faces, enough to prove their relation to Siete. Funf runs up to them and tosses flower petals over them to break the tension, and Siete bursts out into laughter, running over to give them a full-bodied hug.

The next breaths Six are about to take are stuck in his throat as he watches, and then Siete looks over at him. He's bound to the look in Siete's eyes as he grins, waving Six over, and he follows with an unsteady gait and feeling like he's about to be sick. Somehow he manages to hold a conversation with Siete's arm around his waist, the happy adrenaline enough to keep a smile, albeit shaky, on his face.

The long table they have set up doesn't look like it'll fit everyone at first, but it's enough, their elbows knocking during their celebrations. The two of them sit in the middle, not quite the centre of attention, but visible from every seat. The food is plentiful and the conversation is loud enough that Six thinks he might go deaf. But Siete is there, nudging him either accidentally or purposefully, and he feels less like he's out of his element and more cognizant that this is happening.

Nio has gathered her friends from Sky Philharmonic for a small ensemble to play for them that night, and when the meal starts wrapping up, they transition seamlessly into the song for their first dance. Six approved the tradition well ahead of time to give himself room to prepare, but when the moment arrives and Siete is looking at him with unrestrained love and his hand out in invitation, he feels out of his element.

Sensing that he's forgotten how to breathe again, Siete kisses him while guiding him into a standing position, small physical gestures of comfort to ground him. Six stands, feeling like he's floating on air as he follows to the dance floor. "Thanks for doing this with me," Siete whispers.

"What," he says, and his mouth is dry, and he's trying not to pay attention to the chatter of the guests and Sarasa's ( _incredibly_ loud) hoots of encouragement, "marrying you?"

It makes Siete laugh, and he focuses on the familiar sound, the feel of Siete's hands coming around his waist to rest against the skin of his exposed back. "I know this isn't the most comfortable thing for you, but I'm glad you gave me the chance to show off to everyone how good you look tonight. And also show off that we're married."

"I don't look that different," Six mumbles, embarrassed.

Under the dim light of the dance floor, Six glows. Even when the situation is public, Six has a way of being intimate in every way he expresses love. His apprehension falls away when they make eye contact, and Siete falls in love all over again. "You have no idea how happy you look right now," Siete says with awe.

"I should say the same for you." It doesn't hold the same hesitance it regularly does, as if he were trying not to allow himself to smile. Today, he looks like he's letting himself—even if he _is_ embarrassed—and Siete's heart skips a beat or several.

"I'm always smiling. That's my thing," he chuckles.

"It looks different. Like you're about to cry."

"Wow, are you saying I look miserable?"

"Far from it. As hard as it can be to believe in happiness, now is not one of those times."

"You should believe it," Siete says, leaning down for a kiss.

When the song ends, and Six buries his face in Siete's chest as their table of guests applaud, hooting with encouragement. Their nice silverware clatters like a storm because Sarasa is banging the table like she's trying to escape the confines of a cage, but it fills Siete's heart with pride to have people in his life that are happy for him—and more importantly, for Six. Pulling him in closer, he kisses Six on the top of the head, before turning to everyone.

Holding Six closer to him, he whispers into his ear, "It's probably a more appropriate time to say this, right?"

"What?"

He holds his fist up, and yells, "Let's get this party started!"

Six nudges him with an elbow. "Do what you want."

Nio and her band start up with a more upbeat song, which is Six's cue to pull away. He needs time to wind down, so with one more kiss, he releases Six so he can sit down at the table.

(That is, if he can. Many of the guests stop to congratulate him, and through the exhaustion clearly lining his actions, he meets them all with a happiness of his own.)

* * *

With few exceptions, parties are outside of the Eternals' interests as a whole. Traditional occasions like Christmas and New Year's were ignored before Siete convinced the ten of them to spend that time together. Rarely would they find anywhere else to eat that wasn't the base, for there weren't many people they could trust to hold the ten of them without questioning it or revealing their identities, and Funf insisted that Terra would get lonely. Birthdays took even longer to acknowledge because half of the Eternals didn't even know their birthdays and the other half didn't care.

But this wedding brings out enough energy in everyone to make up for those missed celebrations. The guests are lively by personality and by occasion, and even Six finds his way onto the dance floor once. With the lower lighting, some champagne, and Siete's arm around him even while surrounded by everyone else, he thinks he might be enjoying himself for the few minutes of the song.

Even after learning how to co-exist with nine other people, Six has low social energy. It's no surprise that the same would hold true for his own wedding, where the overpowering lights and music make him feel like he's losing control. But this time is different, and rather than trying to escape into his own head, he lets the chaos overtake him, getting himself more champagne as he settles down to observe.

Siete makes his way from the dance floor to sit next to him, swinging a heavy arm around his shoulder. "Hey," he says—or tries to say, but he ends up having to scream for Six to hear him over everyone else.

His smile grows larger, sipping at his champagne. "You don't have to yell. There's enough yelling as it is." Six gestures towards the dance floor while holding the champagne flute.

Siete puts his head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly. Six takes another sip, carried away by Nio and her small band's upbeat music, and lets the scene in front of him blur. The guests have formed a circle, and excitement ripples through the crowd as an impromptu dance battle begins. He hears Quatre's shouts over the din insisting that the Captain of the Grandcypher is going _down_ , and then he feels the music reach its crescendo.

It's rare to see everyone so happy in the same room. They have more of everything in every department than they could have imagined—more guests, more food, more happiness to go around—but not at detriment.

Six has never felt such peace in a turbulent situation like this, and it's all due to the man by his side. (His husband, he thinks, not without wonder.)

As if sensing his thoughts, Siete curls up closer against him and says, "It's nice, isn't it?"

Six hums in agreement, and then his hand reaches out for Siete's to hold.

* * *

"We'll clean up here," Uno says, once only the Eternals remain. Sensing both Siete and Six's protests, they argue over their attempts to carry the burden.

"We got your back!" Funf cheers while leaning on Okto, tired after dancing all night.

It's a common courtesy, but Siete is overwhelmed with emotion, unable to find the words—until beside him, Six bows to them, saying, "We are in your debt."

"Don't—" _be so serious,_ he says, about to throw an arm over Six, but it comes out as a choke instead, and he tries to laugh it off. Funf runs up to them and give them a hug, and the others join her.

"Please, just take a break." Song giggles into their ears as she's hugging them. "It's your wedding day. Let us handle things for once."

"That's what a team is for, isn't it?" Siete laughs, and with their arms around each other's waists and surrounded by friends, there's nowhere else in the entire skydom they could feel a happiness like this.


	5. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy 07/06/2019!  
> jeez i've been writing for these idiots for just over a year now
> 
> edit [july 8, 2019]: [**ame posted the doodles she did for the various scenes in the fic**](https://twitter.com/reaiame/status/1148392695695474688) so i must tell you all to look so i may cry.... ;_;

The first time he heard Siete snore, he bolted up from the bed in a cold sweat. He looked over and Siete was already sitting upright beside him, panting and battle-ready, if not disoriented.

These days, he regards the noise with little more than mild amusement. It's an annoyance in the times he wakes and it prevents him from returning to sleep, but more often it's a comfort in its brashness.

This morning, he wakes before the sun rises. Siete's arm hangs around his waist, and he holds his hand before creeping towards the edge of the bed, trying not to wake him up. In his unconscious state, Siete latches onto him until it's impossible to hold on without falling off. Sitting at the side of the bed, Six bites back a smile as Siete groans and rolls over into the warm spot he left behind, continuing to snore.

His hands may have once been mere instruments of destruction, but when Siete unceremoniously dumped his heart into his hands, he had no option but to bear it, the warmth mingling with his own. There were times where he was sure he was extinguishing its flame, but when he opened his hands, Siete's heart was always there.

He had all intentions of watching the sunrise, but like many mornings, he finds his attention drawn to Siete's sleeping face. He still feels the nagging habit to stand guard at night, to take turns sleeping, to force himself to sleep lightly for their sake. But despite holding the same desire, Siete has abandoned it to hold him in his arms instead.

Siete makes another noise in his sleep, and he leaves the sunrise for another morning. He already has the brilliance of a thousand suns seeking his embrace.

* * *

The bed is empty when he wakes. But he has no fears about where Six is, so he takes his time stretching and burrowing into the warmth of the covers. He's about to drift back to sleep, but as he's learnt over the years, the comfort of slumber is best shared with someone else. Fighting against the drowsiness, he opens his eyes towards where he knows Six is: a few paces out of bed, standing by the window, watching the sun rise.

It was once rare to see Six awake in the morning unless nightmares were involved. Now, he looks at peace, with a soft smile playing on his lips. That expression, like the tranquil early mornings, isn't so uncommon anymore, and he takes a long moment to enjoy the view.

"You're awake," Six says without turning.

"What if I wasn't? You'd just be talkin' to yourself, huh." He yawns.

"Then there would be no witness to my mistake."

Still sleepy—he'll have to drag Six back to bed after this—he slides his legs off the side of the bed, wincing at the cold floor against the soles of his feet. But when he wraps his arms around Six, pulling him into the embrace like he was always meant to be there, the warmth spreads through his body.

Together, they watch the darkness of the night swallowed by the sun, the sky turning vivid shades of pink and red and orange, the sky's own blessing upon their hearts.

* * *

_That world is ours._

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to again to bulb, a., k. and i., and of course, to you! like all those cheesy video game credits. there _might_ a third instalment, but it needs a whole lot more brainpower, so i'm not marking the series as complete just yet
> 
> thank you all again for coming along with me on this journey!  
> if you enjoyed it, please let me know with a comment... this fic is my baby  
> may the skies be kind to you, today and tomorrow  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/discoprince)


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